A Record of Covert Operations
by sweetlylethal
Summary: - by Zachary Goode - contents include detailed entries by Operative Zachary Goode concerning the CIA-independent off-record rescue mission of Cameron Ann Morgan and an array of torn pages of previous writings. These are the entries that remain.
1. Entry 1

**Hey Guys!**  
><strong>This is my first <em>story<em> publishing on fanfiction. It's basically my version of GG5 that keeps me entertained until March when the real masterpiece by Miss Ally Carter comes out. But, basically the story of what happens next through the means of a journal by Zach found 5 years after it's last entry, but that's the only information I'm gonna give you. You'll have to find the rest out for yourselves by reading!**  
><strong>I hope you enjoy and tell me what you think! Thanks!<strong>

**Disclaimer: To be the creative and talented Ally Carter is only an impossible wish of mine.**

A Record of Covert Operations  
>- by Zachary Goode -<p>

_Document obtained at Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women within an uncovered passageway through the grand fire place within the Academy's library on the first level. Contents include detailed entries by Operative Zachary Goode concerning the CIA-independent off-record rescue mission of Cameron Ann Morgan and an array of torn pages of previous writings. These are the pages that remain.  
><em>

We found her.  
>She's here.<p>

I honestly can tell you that before now, I thought I knew what it meant to be afraid.  
>I thought everyone might have <em>some clue<em> of how it is to be fearful.  
>Whether they're fearful of animals.<br>Fearful of heights.  
>Fearful of failure.<br>Fearful of whatever.

But, I will tell you right now.  
>You have never experienced actual fright.<br>Because being frightened is at a negative minimum when you can't ride the new rollercoaster at the theme park or you wait in your car until the guy walking the shih tzu is at least 50 feet away.

And, I only just recently found out that even my perception of fear [making the wrong step; my skills failing me to the extent that the only things I have left disappear] were nothing compared to real fear. Deathly fear. A fear that could hinder any spy's performance.  
>A fear that's like a piercing screech.<p>

Like the kind that echoes through a buried unknown headquarters , no matter how thick the cement walls are, and seeps into the air vents you're navigating through silently.  
>The kind that makes your ears feel like their being burned raw.<p>

And, it's only when there's a break in that screech that you notice.  
>It's not a just the sound of fear. It's a scream.<br>A human's scream. A scream of agony and pain.  
>Cammie Morgan's scream.<p>

That's what real fear is.  
>A fear, that even when the screaming stops momentarily, continues to burn your ears, and paralyzes you for a good 3 minutes, making your coms go wild and Joe Solomon's voice frantically try to reconnect with you. But, you can't speak. And, all you can think is.<p>

We found her.  
>She's here.<p>

And, we're going to get her out.

But, whether that mission will prove successful.  
>Whether <em>she<em> would get out of this alive  
>Whether<em> anybody<em> would get out of this alive.  
>and that it would all be done in less than the fifteen seconds that the fastest bullet could reach any and all agents' heads and confirm death of the only people on the planet that had enough information to bring down the perhaps the most lethal organization in the world.<p>

That's where the fear comes in.  
>That's what sends you running back to base to regroup.<br>Because, with that scream, everything changed.

We found her.  
>She's here.<br>And, despite our lack of longing to admit it,  
>we're all scared senseless.<p> 


	2. Entry 2

**A/N : Sorry for the wait. I hope you like the second entry :) read and tell me what you think!**

I don't want to sit here and reminisce.

Let's get that down in writing first.  
>I'm not doing this for my own good.<br>I don't want to relive any of this.

In fact, if it was my choice, I would burn this book.  
>I would destroy it all.<br>And, it wouldn't really matter if I did.  
>Everything is gone.<br>Every record.  
>Every entry. Every word. Every letter.<br>Everything that might have shortened the search.  
>Everything that might have saved Cammie and kept her alive.<br>_Everything _is gone because of them.

Unfortunately,  
>It's essential to track the information.<br>Vital, even.  
>And, it will always be that way.<br>No matter how much I want to sit here and pretend none of it happened.  
>But, it did happen.<br>The constant pain in my side is proof.  
>And, it'd be foolish to forget it.<br>It'd be foolish not to record it.  
>And, I'm not going to be a fool.<p>

Not anymore.

So, I guess it all started with the words:  
>"All clear," shooting through my ear.<p>

Joe Solomon's voice was stiff as he reported the state of the 4 different cameras dressing the corridor.

He was nervous.  
>He was afraid.<br>We all were.

And, while I slipped through the barren hallways, six stories underground  
>I couldn't help but feel that Joe Solomon would rather he be hiding in the shadows and clinging to the corners of the rough concrete walls rather than me.<br>He'd rather take on the circle alone, crippled and in a wheel chair.  
>He'd rather go in after Cammie with no back up despite the fact that he was still healing.<br>He was still burned.  
>He was still living in the shadow of the Tombs.<p>

But, even if he was physically able to scale walls and slip through security grids like he could before the Circle had gotten to him, he still wouldn't be on the field.

Because, this was a job only _I _could do.  
>And, on any other day, that might sound cool.<br>But, a better way to explain what exactly my role was as I navigated through the last hallways undetected and came to the entrance of the heart of the underground headquarters, was with one simple word that only _sounded _easy.

"Bait."  
>Solomon verified,<br>"You're bait. From now on, you're on they're side. Can you do that for me?"  
>"Affirmative."<p>

Before I continue, let's get this straight.  
>Me playing decoy was about the only plan we had.<br>It was the only plan we _could_ have.  
>With the Circle, there were no blueprints to snag, no security spread sheets to study.<br>We had found this place out of chance.  
>After months of searching for something. <em>Anything<em> that the they might still be using_._  
>And, my recent tour around the air vents was the only information we had on the layout of the headquarters. Everything else we knew was worthless. This was new game. New grounds.<br>New rules.  
>We didn't know <em>who <em>was here. We didn't know _what _was here.  
>And, the only thing we could really rely on was the sound of Cammie Morgan's scream.<br>_She_ was there. I knew she was there.  
>And, if she was there…<br>We must be onto something good.

So, the only plan we had was of the following:  
>Send operatives in.<br>Get Cammie out.  
>Improvise.<p>

And, the only cover we had was me.  
>As the boss's kid.<br>And, if you asked me, despite the fact that our team consisted of three of the greatest operatives that ever lived, we were relying on my other persona far too much.  
>But, it's not like we had a choice.<p>

So, I was wandering around the enemy territory with practically no prior knowledge of my surroundings.  
>I was the key into organization we had been chasing after for months.<br>I was the cover.  
>I was bait.<p>

And, as far as anybody knew, I was on their side.

But, "being bait" was easier said than done.  
>Considering how not too long ago, my current cover wasn't far from the truth.<br>And, in order for the whole "bait" situation to work…  
>I had to run into the right people at the right time.<br>Preferably the ones who didn't know I had been fighting for the wrong side during the tombs incident.

"Can you see anything from your current position?" Mrs. Morgan's voice asked in my ear from half way across the extensive maze of a structure waiting for her cue.

My eyes peaked around the corner.  
>And, that's when I saw her.<br>She was bound. She was bruised. Her dirty blonde hair was bloody.  
>Her fair face had swelled with a violet color.<br>But, her body moved with a steady breath.  
>And, Cammie Morgan was still alive.<p>

"She's here." I whispered, turning away immediately.  
>I probably looked at her for less than 3 seconds.<br>But, the image of her broken body lying awkwardly in the dirt was one I knew would never leave me.

"She's there? Inside the central cavity?"  
>"Affirmative." I repeated.<br>"Is she alone?" Solomon inquired. And, I almost answered with confidence.  
>As if this was actually going to work.<p>

"Af-"

Footsteps.  
>Heavy footsteps echoed through the arena through the door to my right.<br>There was the sound of an impact, a foot hitting a body, and a resulting cry.

"What was that?"

But, Mrs. Morgan knew exactly what had traveled through the coms unit..  
>She knew that the current operation had just taken a turn for the worst.<br>With one single cry from her broken daughter.  
>And, the sound of footsteps.<br>Different footsteps this time.  
>Footsteps that click, and demand attention, making their presence known.<br>Footsteps I was far too familiar with.

With the sound of those steps, I knew exactly what was to happen next.  
>I knew that we were way in over our heads.<br>Yet, there was no room for failure.  
>And, that's when I did something I absolutely knew was the last thing I should do.<br>But, considering the circumstance, it might have been the last thing I _would_do.

That's when I panicked.

"You have to get her out of here." I demanded.  
>"That's what we're gonna try-"<br>"No, Solomon. You get Cammie out of here."

It was safe to say I had lost all wits.  
>And, the tone in Joe Solomon's voice as he attempted to help me regain them told me that he knew what was going on better than anyone.<br>This wasn't going to go off without a hitch. We had gambled with danger, and we lost.

My mom would see right through me. She knew I wasn't on her side.  
>She saw me try to kill her only chances of succeeding.<br>There was no fooling her. And, if I couldn't fool her. We had no cover.  
>We were trapped.<br>And, despite the odds against us.  
>I had to make sure at least one fragment of the mission was completed.<p>

"Zach, this is no time to-"  
>"Promise me." I gritted my teeth, felt a camera above twitch with rotation,<br>and listened to my mother's voice start spewing orders to her company not 20 feet away from my location.

"Promise me. You get her out. No matter what happens."

"We're going to get you _both _out. Stay calm-"  
>Abigail Cameron tried me, reading my mind from no less than a mile away.<p>

But, life doesn't always pan out for the better, for the best.  
>And, while I stood only a step away from mission completion, the same distant I was away from mission failure, I knew that what we had found after four months of searching wasn't going to be what we bargained for. There was no way we were all going to live through this.<br>But, if I could help it. Even if it was with something as fragile as a simple promise.  
><em>She <em>would.

"Promise me."

And, with those words, a heavy moment of silence passed between us for the last time that night.

"I promise." Solomon confirmed gravely, "We'll get her out."

And, with those words the struggle began.

I stepped out of my shadow, and right in the way of the security camera above.  
>An identification scan beeped with completion.<br>An alarm sounded.  
>And, before I knew it, I was twisted into a hostage position by two strong forces, neither of which I countered, and a bag of fabric was thrown across and pulled tightly against my face, turning the world to darkness.<br>The forces twisted me easily, but before we could get a step away from the main entrance of the central cavity, a voice called out.

Right on cue.

"Wait." She said.  
>"Bring him to me."<p> 


	3. Entry 3

**A/N: sorry for the wait 0_0 school's getting crazy. If you **_**really**_** like the story, put it on Story Alert and I promise you'll get updates in heavy doses. They'll just be scattered out. I'm working on getting better at updating…pinky promise. I hope you enjoy!  
>Tell me what you think!<br>Thanks so much! **

I want to make it clear to anyone reading this that before you go on,  
>don't expect me to get into complete emotional detail.<p>

That's what Cammie always used to do I guess.  
>She wrote down everything.<br>And, I do mean _everything._  
>The pages of the report she left at Gallagher were just drenched in every feeling known to woman kind.<br>Not that I minded much.

It's just…  
>This is different.<br>The content matter is different.  
>It's brutal.<br>It's bloody.  
>It's horrific.<p>

It would leave any normal person stunned or shocked.

So, don't expect to find tear drop stains all over the paper.

I mean, some things will come with an emotional underline.  
>That's a given.<br>But, sorry.  
>I'm not going to pour out my heart and soul to everyone deciding to read this.<p>

Like I said.  
>I don't even want to be writing all of this down.<br>I'd rather burn this book.  
>And, I intend to if the opportunity arises.<p>

But, for the sake of record keeping and it's vitality within the world we live,  
>the following reports will describe everything that happened<br>during the rescue mission of Cameron Ann Morgan  
>from the perspective of myself, Zachary Goode,<br>an active operative participating in the mission:

The central cavity stretched upward at least 5 stories.  
>The walls were made of pure concrete and steel – no homey decorations in sight.<p>

Spacing between all four rectangular walls had to be at least 100 feet, and the only exits were the 10 by 10 foot spaces on each side of the room that served as primitive doors.

It was literally one large vacuum of nothing.

And, there was reason for it.  
>It was a pit of steel with a particular purpose.<br>The towering ceilings, the 10 minute commute from the west wall to the east all made sure that whoever entered the central cavity didn't have an easy time getting out.  
>I guess that fact is the reason why I felt the urge to puke my guts out the second the hostage cloth was yanked away from my face and cold, sterile air finally filled my lungs.<p>

There was no emergency exit.  
>There was no escape plan.<br>This was it.  
>Do or die.<br>Do or _she _dies.

Footsteps echoed through the cavity once more, much louder, much faster, but no less demanding.  
>I was turned immediately toward the source and the first thing I remember seeing was my mother's cold face cringed up into some sort of stupid smile.<br>Not a sweet, normal, motherly smile.  
>But, a suspicious, evil one.<p>

"Zachary, dear," She grabbed my chin then forced it upward to see her,  
>"I'm so glad you came to visit me."<p>

My mother cupped face as if she was trying to remember what I looked like – to make sure it was really me.  
>Once confirmed, she smirked proudly.<p>

But, pride from my mother is not something you necessarily _want_.

"I'm impressed actually. It's so sweet of you to come so far,"

She spoke to the room, pausing a moment to hear her own echo as she walked away from me, exhibiting her control over the situation,  
>while I still hung from the grip of two of the 6 different muscle men of hers.<br>She didn't care that the whole of both of my arms were losing circulation.

"It's such a nice thought," she smiled and shrugged pointedly,  
>"After all, the most I've ever done for <em>you <em>is give you life."

"Well, I guess now we're even."

I exchanged a smirk with her as she reinforced the fact that I had betrayed her  
>and she would never let me forget it.<p>

"Not quite."

And, right then,  
>I remember thinking how long it had really been<br>since I had the bitter taste of my mother's sarcasm shot at me.  
>But, I have to say, I fully expected it.<p>

Unfortunately, that was the only thing I could expect at the moment.

All I really knew about the situation was that since the Tombs,  
>I was a threat to her.<br>I was her enemy.

And, this wasn't all that great for me because that fact only made things seem more hopeless.  
>The double agent had been revealed.<br>I had no allies.  
>And, my only back up –<br>two agents over a mile away,  
>a man who was known to the world as dead,<br>and the broken Gallagher Girl on the floor that twitched in attention at the sound of my name.

"Well," my mother smiled and lifted her hand to the men behind me to release my arms  
>then gestured toward the figure awkwardly crumpled up in the middle of the room to her left.<p>

"You know Cammie."

I felt Cam look up.

But, I didn't dare shoot her a glance.

Because, when you're stuck in a five story pit of concrete with the core of the most lethal ancient terrorist group in the world,  
>weakness is not an option.<p>

So, I pretended like she wasn't there.  
>Like she wasn't half dead on the floor.<br>I kept my face as still as stone and  
>simply focused on Joe Solomon's voice reassuring that backup was on the way.<p>

But, everyone knows there are things even trained spies can't hide from their moms.  
>And, that includes weaknesses of all sorts.<p>

No matter how good the said spy was at making the rest of the world believe those weaknesses weren't there.

I remember my mom smile knowingly – the room coming to a silence  
>the last near hopeful moment that night before things turned bad.<br>_Really _bad.

"Where's the rest of your group?"

There was a hitch that flowed through the unit in my ear.  
>And, I could tell even the living legends on the other side of my coms were beginning to panic.<p>

She knew I wasn't alone. She knew I wasn't here on family matters.

And, if she knew that.  
>Covers were blown.<br>Security teams were probably buzzing around the building by then.  
>And, hope, was virtually lost.<p>

Not to be negative or anything.

But that was the truth.

"I mean certainly, sweetheart, I've taught you better not to go anywhere without backup."

I smiled at my mother as she crossed her arms and faced me.

"Funny. I don't remember_ you_ teaching me anything at all."  
>She chuckled.<p>

"I _made_ you, Zachary. You are what you are because of _me_."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

Her smug laugh filled the cavity again as she stepped toward Cammie.  
>I flinched at her action – scolding myself as she walked.<p>

"Either way, Gallagher must have touched on the subject while you were there.  
>Right, Cammie, dear?"<p>

She pushed Cam's chin up from its tucked position and looked to smile at me knowing that in the game we were playing,  
>she had the higher hand, and it would take a miracle for me to win.<p>

And, whatever chance of a miracle I had was still trying to make it to my location.

"Halfway up the fourth west hallway,"

"The hallways to your right, Rachel, holds a corner camera, watch your steps or it'll catch you"

"Affrimative. Camera checked and passed. All clear."

"Come in, Abby"

"I'm here"

"You're quiet…"

"I'm lost."

"What's around you?" I heard the crinkle of my make shift map of the headquarters  
>sketched in less than 5 minutes last night as Solomon tried his skill at finding a needle in a haystack he couldn't see.<p>

"I'm in a fork, there's a hallway to my left and my right , looks like there's another dead end to the right, but several hallways reach off the left."

"You're two hallways east of me," I wanted to tell her suddenly desperate for company.

But, I couldn't say a word because,

One. In the most positive light, my mom only guessed that I didn't come alone.  
>She didn't for certain know. And, as long as I could help it, she would never be certain,<br>even if it meant Abby wouldn't find her way to the central cavity.

Two. With my mother's steps leading toward the broken girl on the floor ,  
>my focus shifted and I made the stupid mistake of looking at her, seeing her and studying Cammie Morgan as she winced in pain.<br>A large gash crossed the right side of Cam's head, the blood soaking a majority of her hair as the wound scabbed up slowly.  
>In addition to several scraps crossing her the rest of her face, an enormous bruise incased her left eye,<br>and her limbs seemed useless to her as she did her best not to move due to the fact every time she did  
>she had to grit her teeth to endure the result.<p>

And, all of this, of course, left me shamefully speechless.  
>Never before had I seen Gallagher Girl so low.<p>

Finally, Three. Even if I did decide to say something and jeopardize the arrival of Rachel Morgan and Abby Cameron.  
>Even if I could handle the sight of Cameron Morgan reduced to practically nothing.<br>I didn't have much time to say it.

Like I said, things started moving fast.

And, before I could really say anything, my mother took one look at me, then another at Cammie,  
>gave me the nasty smile and ordered to her company:<p>

"Hook her up to The Chair.  
>If she won't give <em>us<em> the information we want. Maybe she'll respond to a _familiar _face."


	4. Entry 4

**A/N: I thought I would update quick this time. This entry is short and sweet but needed.  
>Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy. Tell me what you think!<br>**

"Hook her up to The Chair. If she won't give us the information we want.  
>Maybe she'll respond to a familiar face"<p>

Despite popular belief,  
>I'm not crazy.<br>I'm not in shock.  
>I have a reason for writing the words of my mother twice in a row.<p>

The point is I want you to look at those words closely.  
>Because, though at the time the world seemed to be in fast forward,<br>in a period of a couple seconds of analysis I found that the orders my mother shouted through the room  
>told me three key concepts all listed below – not necessarily in the correct order of occurrence.<p>

**"If she won't give us the information we want."**

"she" is obviously, in context, referring to Cammie.

"us" refers to my mom, her backup, and the Circle as a whole

"the information we want" – otherwise known as the answers the Circle had hunted Gallagher Girl down for in the first place  
>aka: the inside scoop on the work of a one Matthew Morgan who came too close for comfort to the destruction of the organization itself.<p>

Next, we come across the ever important, ever vital word in the phrase…

"won't" - also listed as "won't give" as in "she won't give us" which states an essentially known fact for every agent in that room and behind the current mission.  
>With that simple phrase: "If she won't give us the information we want"<br>You take away two major points.

One. Cammie hadn't given in.  
>She had been as stubborn as usual and was still standing strong.<br>Meaning, the Circle hadn't gotten anything out of her yet.  
>And, all I could think at the time these words were said was:<br>that's my Gallagher Girl.

Two. The fact that Cammie hadn't given in was the reason she was still alive.  
>And, the fact that she hadn't given in was the reason<br>why she probably wouldn't be alive much longer.

Which is why my mother had also yelled out  
><strong>"Hook her up to The Chair." <strong>

If you don't know, meaning, if you didn't catch on quickly enough the first time it was written  
>or rather, shouldn't be reading this at all due to the fact you probably won't understand anything after this point…<p>

"The Chair" is a slang term also known as The Circle's version of The Electric Chair.  
>yes, The Electric Chair.<br>The one with the grabs  
>and wires<br>and the surging of electricity through a human body.  
>The one that has been outlawed in almost every state and country<br>under the evidence that using such a system is considered  
>cruel and unusual punishment.<p>

That's exactly what she called for.

So, if you're already horrified  
>andor are starting to feel queasy.  
>Stop reading.<br>If you have any common sense  
>or even the smallest particle a valuable organ I like to call the brain.<br>Stop reading.

But, if you just must continue, I'll tell you one thing.

The fact that she called for it surprised me more than the fact that The Circle owned any type of Electric Chair  
>– probably because I knew they had The Chair since age of understanding for a couple of reasons.<br>One of those reasons being experience.  
>Another being horror stories passed around the field.<p>

It was a last resort torture method.

And, why so last resort, you ask?

That would be for the reason that not only is it one of the most inhumane and painful methods of torture  
>– it also very often results in death andor permanent damage.  
>Meaning any information you could get out of the victim would disappear with the life of its keeper.<p>

And, also, it wasn't the most pleasant of torture procedures to give I suppose.  
>The screaming naturally given off by the victim, I was told, is pretty hard to listen to.<br>Even to those who really didn't care at all who was screaming or if they died,  
>or who they left behind when they didn't come back home.<p>

It was like a scary movie.  
>Most times, you could care less about the characters, the plot, or the actors.<br>It was simply the sights, the sounds that stuck with you and would make sure you don't sleep that night.

I suppose if you take a situation like that and multiply it by a couple million,  
>you might have the magnitude of agony which The Chair had the ability to produce.<br>Both for it's victim and it's controller.

And, something like that is sure to give you night mares.  
>Even if you didn't care about the person being electrocuted to death at your own hand.<br>Even if you didn't care at all.

But, that was the problem.  
>Unfortunately.<br>I was the one in the room that did care.  
>And my mother saw that, and used it cleverly to kill two birds with one stone.<p>

She found a common factor between her ability to torture Cammie  
>and her ability to punish the son who betrayed her.<br>Which is why she said,

**"Maybe she'll respond to a**_** familiar**_** face."  
><strong>  
>That familiar face being me.<p>

And, if you still need a translation.

This all meant not only would Cameron Morgan be electrocuted to possible death.  
>It would be done by yours truly.<p>

Stopped reading yet?


	5. Entry 5

**You've waited a long time. So, I'm thinking...long chapter? Enjoy! And, tell me what you think.**

I probably should have seen it coming.

Actually, I did see it coming.

My mother always had a tendency to resort to the cliché.  
>Which may seem foolish to any normal person.<p>

But, considering as a spy, you expect everything but the cliché.  
>The cliché begins to be unexpected.<p>

So, in a word.  
>My mother was no fool.<p>

And, after spending eighteen years with the woman.  
>I should have known.<br>I knew.

I knew she would use my weakness.  
>I knew that she would use my concern for Gallagher Girl against me<br>despite my ability to hide it under a blank stare.

I knew because that's what I would do.  
>That's what any good spy would do.<p>

And, what I really _should have_known was that not detaching myself from Cammie Morgan sooner would lead to something like this.

Actually, scratch that.  
>I knew that too.<br>I knew it wasn't a good idea in the first place.

I knew it was stupid to even concern myself with anyone at all.  
>And, I guess this was just another thing to kick myself for.<p>

Unfortunately, a side effect of knowing the Morgans' was: Hope.  
>They had endless, and sometimes seemingly pointless amounts of hope.<br>They were all full of it.

Even lying in the dirt with who knows how many broken bones and bleeding wounds,  
>Cammie was most likely still full of hope that she would live. That things would turn out okay.<br>And, that was kind of annoying.

But, the point is, it rubbed off on me.  
>I had spent too much time around her.<br>And, that wasn't necessarily good for my instincts.

Because though according to the statistics - we were all going to end up dead by the end of the night -  
>I still had this annoying sense of hope that knocked me off my game<br>and just for one second, I didn't expect my mother to pull the Cammie card.

"Do what she says, Zach. You hear me? Do what she says."

My coms went wild with Solomon's voice with an unusual shake.

He was panicking.  
>He was panicking for his best friends' daughter.<p>

And, when Joe Solomon, the man who had been to the edge of life and back, began to panic  
>It was just another indicator that all Hell was about to break loose.<p>

"3 hallways to the West,"  
>"You're 10 minutes away, Rachel"<br>"I've got security on my tail."  
>"Keep moving. Don't look back. Just get to that central cavity."<p>

"Is your tail clear, Abby"  
>"Yeah, but.."<br>"But.."  
>" but problem is, I don't know where I- "<br>"Abby..?"  
>"I just found a weapons safe."<br>"Grab anything you can carry. Rachel, keep moving"

"Zach-"

My mother and Solomon said my name in unison.  
>I turned from my blank stare on the steel wall 100 feet away, and realized the only seconds had passed.<p>

"Strap her in." "Don't kill her."

My mother's words mirrored my mentor's in a sense as the both seemed to put me back in place of something I had fought so long not to be:

The enemy.

"Tighten her in with the –" "Whatever you do, don't let that knob hit-"

"I know what to do."

I remembered snapping to both voices, and accordingly both voices were silenced.  
>And, with that I remember feeling like I had in the past.<br>Like it becoming part of the Circle was inevitable  
>It was either that or death.<p>

I stepped toward Cam.  
>I remember her flinching and struggling to sit up as I stepped toward her,<br>but I made no hesitation at grabbing her by the hips  
>and lifting her up to the chair placed in the middle of the cavity.<p>

I remember flinging her into the seat.  
>And, I remember regretting it when she let out a cry.<p>

And with that cry,  
>I could just feel my mother's sinister smile on the back of my neck.<p>

I knew how to set up the system for a couple reasons.  
>One of those reasons being one I mentioned before:<p>

Experience.

But, I'll spare you the details.

The point is, my mother was aware that I how to set it all up.  
>She knew I knew how to work it.<br>And, that was just another part of the torture.

Because as I prepped Cammie Morgan for her death by electrocution,  
>I felt a lot more like the bad guy than the good.<br>I had the knowledge, the ability, the rep that made me part of The Circle  
>no matter how many brownie points I got from the other side.<p>

And, that was something I knew my mother wanted to rub in my face.

I yanked the metal grab into place with force tightening it across Cam's waist.  
>And, I had to say I was doing so well at avoiding any contact with Gallagher Girl at all.<p>

But, obviously Cam wasn't going to settle with silence, as usual.

She began to speak.  
>As the cords were being unraveled,<br>and the controls programmed into a booth far off in the left corner of the room,  
>a struggle of a voice was suddenly pointed toward me<p>

"Zach."

I didn't respond.  
>She didn't care.<p>

"Zach."

I moved to the left grab, yanking it across her waist and beginning to lock the two together to keep her in place.  
>She yelped, and that's when I looked up.<p>

And, despite the fact that by the look of it, one of the ribs on her left was probably already broken,  
>and the grab piercing into her side wasn't helping the healing process,<br>she didn't stop talking.

"Zach, I found the database,"

I froze. Because, though I really wanted her to shut up considering our company.  
>those words said a little more than one would expect.<p>

One, she knew I had a coms unit in my ear. She wouldn't waste that information on someone who was just as close to death as she was at the moment.

Two, she accomplished far more than we thought she had in her four months away from home.

And, three, she immediately gave me the information that her life depended on.  
>And, sorry, but that's not something you give an enemy.<br>That's not something you give the villain that can potentially kill you.

And, if you didn't catch the significance of this, I'll give it to you point blank.

Though Gallagher Girl had every reason to believe I was against her,  
>that I walked into the room a part of the same terrorist organization out to kill her,<p>

She decided to trust me.

"I found the Circle's database. The central computer's here in the wing below us.  
>I hacked it and sent a source file to G– "<p>

Her voice was low and skillfully hidden, but I guess not hidden enough  
>due to the face my mother's voice cut her off and filled the room with an echo.<p>

"Yes, we know about you're little hacking job, Miss Cammie,  
>And, you can consider your efforts in vain. The file never made it to the CIA,"<p>

But as her words bounced off the walls, there was one last exchange that crossed between Cam and I while the truth came out and we suddenly had hope again.

Because both Cam and I knew, the source file was never sent to the CIA.  
>It was sent to Gallagher.<br>Because that's how _we_got our hands on it.

That's how we discovered this place.

And, as my mother returned to her work, barking orders at her henchmen,  
>I gave Cam a look of understanding then finally spoke to her for the first time in months.<p>

"I know."

I grabbed the electric straps and started attaching them to her right arm.  
>But, Cammie paid no attention to it.<p>

"How did you know it was me?" She questioned.

And, I guess we really didn't _know_ for sure that she was the one who sent the file to Gallagher.  
>But, here's the thing:<p>

The database was the central storage system for The Circle.  
>Every organization has its nucleus.<br>And the computer Cam found was just the biggest part of that nucleus.  
>No one but a few knew its location.<br>No one but one knew how to work it.

Rumors told of the main system being hidden.  
>Hidden and only found by scaling walls, squeezing through cracks,<br>dodging the world's best and deadliest security systems,  
>and when you did get into the legendary room with no entrance,<br>hacking the server was considering purely impossible for anyone.

Not even the best of the Circle knew how to get into that room.  
>Not even the best of the Circle<em> wanted<em>to get into that room.

So, in short.  
>Finding this computer included<br>jumping walls,  
>breaking rules,<br>discovering secret passages, and  
>defying boundaries despite the risk.<p>

Sounds like Gallagher Girl to me.  
>Am I right?<p>

"I had a hunch," I said, and for the first time in awhile, I smiled a little.

"The file contained a list of-"  
>"Names."<p>

Names that gave us insight on at least some of those involved in the Circle.  
>Names that would lead to arrests, and clues, and eventually the unraveling of the<br>organization all together.  
>And, if you thought about it, with the discovering of this encoded list,<p>

Cammie Morgan had practically brought down the Circle herself.  
>Just like her father set out to do.<p>

"You decoded it?" Her eyes went wide as I slowly placed the last electric connections on her temples.  
>"Yes."<br>"How?"  
>"Solomon."<p>

I said the name quickly, mentioning her CovOps old teacher whom she now knew was alive and well  
>and the last weapon we had in our arsenal – a man who had been on the inside - a man who was supposed to be dead.<p>

And I guess all of this caught Cam off guard and put her at peace for the last time that night because she inched a smile on her face despite the fact that my mother demanded me back to the booth to start the procedure.

But, before I took one step away,  
>Cam seemed to second guess herself.<p>

"Zach-"

I turned

"What side are you on?"

I blinked in offence as if it wasn't already clear enough.  
>But, then again, if I was about to die.<br>I guess I would want to triple check that the person who held  
>my life in their hands was actually my ally.<p>

Because, if they were.  
>There might be some hope.<p>

And, there's the Morgan hope thing again.  
>I wasn't kidding.<br>They never stop.

"Zachary-" My mother's voice boomed,  
>"It's time for a little lesson on just where siding with the <em>Cammie Morgans <em>of the worldcan get you"

And, with that, I remember looking Cam square in the eye,  
>and told her the truth.<p>

"I follow the pigeons, Gallagher Girl.  
>Always have. Always will."<p> 


	6. Entry 6

**A/N: Wow. It's been awhile. I'm sorry for the wait. I had to exchange fanfiction for homework for a bit. And, when I did come back to this, something didn't feel right. I had to sit on it for awhile and figure out what I really wanted to happen. Good news is, I'm committed to getting you the seventh entry tonight! Yay! Anywho, enjoy and tell me what you think! Thanks SO much for reading!**

Death is weird.  
>it's strange.<p>

I mean, it's sad.  
>Sometimes tragic.<br>Maybe even frustrating.

But, quite honestly.  
>It's just weird.<p>

And, despite the fact that all of us might agree on the fact  
>that death is honestly a really strange thing and we'd all prefer<br>to do without it as much as possible,  
>It happens.<p>

And, if you're a spy.  
>it happens a lot.<br>It's an everyday thing.  
>It's nothing unusual.<p>

Really everyone we associate ourselves with  
>put their lives on the line everyday to do their craft, to complete their mission,<br>to make the world a better place for those they eventually leave behind.

Matthew Morgan was no different.  
>And, neither was his daughter.<p>

In fact, Cam ran away to do just that.  
>Put her life on the line to make it better, safer, for her friends.<p>

And, well. When you take risks in this business.  
>There's always a consequence.<br>Always. And, many times that consequence is death.

No matter how unfair or completely bogus it may seem.  
>Death doesn't discriminate.<br>Doesn't matter if someone's young, old,  
>innocent, guilty, deserving or undeserving,<br>pure-hearted or completely screwed up.

Death has no eyes. No ears. No mercy.

She collapsed.

That's probably the one thing I remember the most.  
>Watching her fall to the ground, giving up the spec of life she had left in her.<p>

After that, things were a blur.  
>I turned and ran back.<br>There was a blast from the corner of my room.  
>And, that's when I heard Solomon scream my name.<p>

But, the bullet was too quick.  
>The aim was too precise.<br>And, whether the gunner was aiming to finish off Cammie or stop my sprint for her,  
>none of that mattered.<p>

The deed was done.

I wasn't sure just how it happened.  
>Like I said before, everything was fast.<br>It sped by. And, all you could do was react.  
>Work off instincts, moment by moment.<p>

But, I guess for the record,  
>here's everything.<br>In order of occurrence.  
>For you and your reading enjoyment.<p>

That night from my point of view.

Cameron Morgan was shocked exactly 6 times.  
>Alternating current. 5-10 seconds each.<br>Voltage and duration increasing with progression.  
>Shocks were administered by myself<br>but dictated by my mother.

The last shock was approximately 170 volts  
>lasting for around 8 seconds.<br>With that particular shock, Cammie's scream has morphed into some sort of demented plea. Her voice cut out unwillingly which was a big difference from the beginning of the procedure when Cam was determined not to make a sound at all cause the more pain they knew she was in, the more successful they were, and the faster she lost the last battle she had even a chance at winning.

Her screams were music to their ears.  
>But, with that last shock, as I turned the knobs and pressed the buttons signally Cammie to give out her last cry of pain, everyone in that little control booth winced. Regardless of which side they were on.<p>

And, after that last shock,  
>Cam went limp.<p>

It was exactly 6 minutes, and 42 seconds before Abigail Cameron reached the central cavity.

She appeared in the door way in the last three seconds of Cammie's last shock.  
>And, with her entrance, she was compromised on the spot.<br>Orders were thrown, alarms were signaled off,  
>and the room erupted with unorganized insanity.<p>

That's when the electrocution process stopped, the control booth rushed to the east doorway.  
>And, I started sprinting towards the middle of the room.<p>

I ripped at the grabs on Cam's waste and yanked the wires off her skin.  
>I remember holding onto her admits everything that was going on behind me.<br>There was noise everywhere, shouting of orders, breaking of bones.

Absolute chaos.

But, in the middle of that underground headquarters,  
>I distinctly remembering everything being silent.<br>Deathly silent.

"Cam-" It was harder to speak than I remembered.

"Wake up, Cam," I shook her as if she was only asleep, "Wake up.  
>We gotta get out of here. Abby can't hold them off for long."<p>

No response.

"Cammie."

I said her name pointlessly staring at the girl I had met not 2 years earlier.  
>Some girl who I had beat out on a mission for school.<br>Some girl who I just happened to know.  
>And, here I was holding her as close to me as possible,<br>trying to come to terms that she might actually be gone.

"_Gallagher Girl_."

Her eyelids twitched.  
>Then I guess I shouldn't have been surprised with what happened next.<br>Cameron Morgan was not one to give up.  
>She was never one to be defeated.<br>And though this stubborn nature of hers could really get irritating on any normal day.  
>I thanked God for it in that moment.<br>Because, suddenly Cammie Morgan spoke.

"Za-" was all that came out of her mouth. And, though a scene of blood and death was lurking in the distance, I smiled a little and pulled us both up.

"Come on, Gallagher Girl,"  
>As I stood, Cam's body suddenly assembled with the lowest amount of strength possible. Her eyes barely open, her knees barely holding her weight.<br>But nevertheless, I remember reading on her face strong determination.  
>There was no way she was going to die there. Not without a fight.<p>

A cry from Abby came from the corner of the cavity, a cry of pain.  
>The security team had doubled in the seconds she had been there.<br>Alarms sounded from the outside halls. More men and women being assembled with one purpose.  
>To get us out. To bring death without mercy.<p>

God only knew how Abby was still alive.  
>And, that answer would only come to us as I turned to Cam and whispered,<br>"_Run_"  
>As I pointed to the air vent seven feet above the ground on the south wall,<br>Cammie nodded her head as much as she could and took the direction she had been following for months.

And, despite the fact that all odds that night were against her:  
>Those shocks should have killed her.<br>The torture in general should have finished her off.  
>And, even if they didn't, her body should be in no shape to move, much less make an escape.<br>Despite all of this, Cammie Morgan ran for her life.

And, I did the same.  
>Toward the expanding mob near the east wall attempting to extinguish a problem that shouldn't have grown to this scale considering it was 5 operatives against thousands.<p>

"Abby!" I called out finally finding her face and taking down a security member in front of me with a swift kick from behind. Abby kicked and grunted against a man three times her size gripping her with a strangling hold. Her endurance was withering, and her efforts were only a mere game to the men around her.  
>For a second I wondered why more of that hit team weren't off to finish the toothpick of a woman known as Abigal Cameron, and why more of them weren't coming after me or Cammie for that matter as I barged into the mob struggling to find some way to make all of them disappear.<br>But, it wasn't until Abby turned her head to see me that I noticed the direction of focus of the mob.  
>It wasn't toward her.<br>It wasn't towards me.  
>It was toward Joe Solomon.<br>A dead man to them.  
>A symbol of what happens if you betray the Circle.<br>An operative who wasn't supposed to be there.

But, He was fighting. He was holding them off.  
>He was supposed to be in a wheel chair a mile away.<br>But, I didn't have much time to question where everyone was getting their miraculous strength, because there was a hitch in the air. Abby's eyes twitched past me. And, out of hind sight, I turned and watched Cammie Morgan fall.  
>She collapsed.<br>Not ten seconds after I left her.

Like I said, that's the one thing I remember vividly.  
>Because, as she collapsed I noticed that something was different somehow.<br>Earlier, when I caught the sight of her body bloody and bound on the steel floor of the central cavity, she might not have been in a pretty condition. But, she had a steady breath.  
>A hope of life.<br>But, now. As she collapsed.  
>Her body was lifeless.<p>

So, I sprinted.  
>I booked it.<br>And, all I could think as I watched the distance between me and Cam decrease far too slowly was:

This is all my fault.

I should have stayed with her. But, I told her to run. I told her to once more go on without aid,  
>and considering how well that obviously went the first time, I was a fool to make her do it again.<br>I was a fool not to stop her the first time.  
>I was a fool not to protect her from the get go.<br>And, because of all of that,  
>Cammie Morgan was lying breathless and motionless on the ground.<p>

And in those milliseconds running toward her,  
>I made a conclusion.<p>

Death is really weird.

Weird in the sense that it can be right under your nose, meters away.  
>But, you can't do a thing about it.<br>You can't grab life its strands and pull it back.  
>You can't make death go away, you can't dodge it.<p>

And, you can't make exchanges.  
>You can't trade one life for another.<br>No matter how much you wanted to.

No matter how much it really _should_ happen.  
>No matter how much I deserved to be dead on the ground rather than Cammie Morgan.<p>

It was a pop from the East that interrupted my sprint.  
>I was not a second away from reaching Cammie's body when my brain connected the dots.<br>The blast.  
>The flash.<br>The chaos's split second halt.  
>Joe Solomon's voice shouting my name.<br>And, the sudden impact to my side knocking me to my knees.

It was a bullet.  
>A bullet skillfully shot between my ribcage and my hip.<p>

In that moment pain took over.  
>I don't remember screaming or yelling or anything.<br>I just remember doubling over.  
>My head down, my eyes closed.<br>But, not long enough to miss the fire.

If you thought it was over.  
>If you thought the bullet in my side was the tragic end to that night.<br>If you thought hat my inability to make a quick movement, and the motionless state of Cam's body was to hinder any escape plan we could conjure up. Joe and Abby would be taken, Rachel never found, and we would die alone at least knowing that nothing could make the situation worse.

Well, you're wrong.

Abigail Cameron had planted a micro-bomb obtained from a Circle weapon safe not far from the planting sight one hallway to the east of the central cavity before entering.

The explosion cut through the hallway and into the steel of the cavity's structure,  
>blowing out several panels of the east wall. At the time of explosion, the struggle between Abby , Joe and the Circle's dispatching security team was positioned around the east entrance to the cavity, the action being consumed in flames on the spot.<p>

Black smoke and the smell of burning steel filled the room, sweeping up the oxygen easily.  
>And, as a hunched over Cammie's body to shelter her from the planks of steel now flying across the room, I wasn't sure who was dead, who was alive, or how long Cam and I had before clean air disappeared and breathing was impossible.<p>

Now, it would probably be safe to declare the night as over.  
>I wouldn't blame you because that's what I did.<p>

I hunched over next to Gallagher Girl, placing pointless pressure on my side that was bleeding profusely while I could almost feel Cam's last breaths slipping out of her.  
>And, I don't know why I said it then,<br>I mean, I know she deserved to hear it, and I know I had to say it before it was too late,  
>I just guess I don't know why I'm writing it down.<p>

Maybe just so she knows. If she ever reads this. If that's even possible.  
>Maybe just so she knows I really meant it.<br>I really did try to save her.

But, in that moment, as the world burned to ash,  
>I remember muttering,<p>

"I'm sorry, Gallagher Girl."


	7. Entry 7

**A/N: Okay, so it took a little time to get it right. But, it's here! And, it hasn't been five weeks!Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews. I'm so glad you liked the last chapter. This one isn't quite as heavy. But, it's necessary. Enjoy! And, tell me what you think!**

I would have given anything for her to live.  
>And, that's nowhere near an exaggeration of any kind.<p>

So write it down.  
>Record it in your data tables.<br>Sort it into your files.  
>Whatever reason you're reading this ridiculous book.<p>

Make a note of it.

I would have given_ anything _for Cammie Morgan to live.

But, unfortunately, as the central cavity burned,  
>and the world started to fade to black,<p>

There wasn't much left to give.

I don't remember much after the east wall went to flames.  
>I mean, I guess I just don't remember all the details.<p>

Therefore, I can't write much down,  
>and, it all be completely and totally accurate.<p>

So, get over it.

To be fair, I was probably in a state a shock.  
>The shot wound in my side had begun to wear on me.<p>

No movements could be made. The pain was too great.  
>No breaths could be taken. The clean air in the room was already withered away.<br>Nothing could be done. Cammie Morgan was long gone unconscious.  
>So, basically everything from then on,<br>was pretty much a blur, a black hole in my memory.

Nothing I'd really want to remember.  
>So I didn't try.<p>

What I mainly recall is steel.  
>Steel, everywhere.<br>It was one thing I was sure was still there.

And, as the blood loss started to take its toll,  
>I remember watching the ceiling, watching the steel.<br>watching for something, something to change.

I'm not sure exactly what that something was.  
>But, that's all I remember doing.<br>That's all I really could do.

I was paralyzed.  
>I was helpless.<p>

And, despite the fact that helplessness was the last thing I wanted to admit to,  
>there was nothing else I <em>could<em> do  
>but stare at the ceiling,<br>listen to the roar of the fire take down the central cavity,  
>and gradually watch my vision leave me along with half of my blood flow.<p>

I remember accepting defeat.  
>Bitterly, mind you.<p>

But, I had accepted it.

And, maybe that's why when a figure approached Cam and I,  
>I wasn't quite focused.<p>

The movement, of course, attracted my attention,  
>but the woman that stood over us, studying us,<br>was almost unrecognizable considering my hazy vision,  
>and any effort I made to focus in on her face was virtually useless.<p>

But, as soon as the woman spotted my movement,  
>She spoke.<br>She spoke as if suddenly we weren't just a couple of dead bodies anymore.

She spoke as if we had hope.

And, that's when I knew it was Rachel Morgan.

The hope thing.  
>It gave her away.<p>

But, just because I had finally decided it was Mrs. Morgan,  
>didn't mean I caught everything she said.<p>

My brain was working at a snail pace.  
>It was if I couldn't think fast enough.<br>Listen quick enough.

It was as if my body had given up.  
>And, there was no reason to keep up with the seconds anymore.<br>There was no reason to sprint or run or work fast pace.

It was all over.

So, when Rachel Morgan spoke,  
>All I really got was,<p>

"Zach –"  
>"Gas main-"<br>"East hall-"

I remember flinching, my eyes widening with the thought.  
>If the fire went far enough into the building,<br>it was bound to hit something extremely explosive.

Like a gas main. Right off the third east hallway.

And, if you're not catching the hint,  
>let me spell it out for you.<p>

If those flames reached that gas main:  
>That entire underground structure turns into a bomb<br>And, it would take anything and _anyone_its path.

In other words,  
>there was no choice anymore.<p>

We had to move.

And, for a second,  
>I remember believing that was possible.<br>I remember struggling to get up as Mrs. Morgan's figure went toward Cammie.

But, just as quickly as I pushed myself up,  
>determined to defy the laws of energy and pull strength out of nowhere,<br>I slammed back to the ground in an unspeakable pain,  
>more immobile than I had been ten seconds ago.<p>

All because of a bullet I had forgotten was even there.

With my fall, Mrs. Morgan's eyes fixed on me.  
>She had picked up Cammie,<br>and I remember Cam's motionless body was over her shoulder in an awkward fashion

And, it wasn't until then  
>that I noticed there was something off about the way<br>Rachel Morgan was holding her right arm.

It was mangled.  
>It was twisted.<br>It was broken.

There was no way she could carry us both out.

The answer to the problem was obvious to me.  
>But, I could see in the way Mrs. Morgan held herself that she wasn't ready to resort to that.<br>She was determined to get us both out.  
>Just like her daughter, she was determined not to be defeated.<p>

But, I remember making up my mind on the spot.

Like I said,  
>I would have given<em> anything<em>for Cammie Morgan to live.

And, I mean it.

"Get her out."

I remember my voice sounding foreign, dry.  
>The heat had taken the moisture away from my mouth.<br>And, I remembered having to force the words out.

But, either way they were clear.  
>And, Rachel Morgan was hesitant.<br>As if suddenly one of the best spies in the business  
>didn't know which move to make next.<p>

So, I repeated myself.

"Get. Her. Out."

I pointed to the same air vent I had when I told Cammie to run.  
>The first attempt to help her escape.<br>To keep her safe.  
>To complete the part of the mission<br>I was determined would not fall to failure.

And, at that point she had another chance.  
>She had a chance to live.<p>

And, there was no way I was going to let  
>Rachel Morgan's sympathy for some delinquent orphan boy get in the way of that.<p>

"Go." I said pushing her to leave.

Time was ticking.  
>The fire would reach the third east hallway in milliseconds.<br>They didn't have much longer. Cam didn't have much longer.  
>So I played the only card I had left,<br>and spoke above the fire.

"You promised."

Seems stupid now,  
>that I was relying on something<br>as insignificant and worthless as a promise.

Actually, it seems _really_stupid.

But, stupid or not,  
>it got Rachel Morgan to turn around.<p>

It got her to stop sympathizing and start running,  
>sprinting toward the south entrance.<p>

The last thing I remember from that night was  
>the bang of the vent grid opening.<br>The clanking sound the resonated in the space  
>as the Morgan's scaled the wall .<br>And, the small second of silence  
>when I was almost certain Rachel Morgan looked back<p>

I remember closing my eyes.  
>I remember feeling some sort of peace.<br>And, I don't recall anything else.

Do the brain scans.  
>Get out the lie detector.<p>

That's all I've got.

My mind is literally a blank.  
>But, if anything comes back to me.<br>I'll let you know.

But, from that moment on,  
>within the central cavity,<br>the steel floor and the growing fire,  
>I sort of remember falling asleep.<p>

Passing out is probably a more appropriate term.  
>But, the next thing I knew.<br>I was awake.

And, since I know you're going to ask.  
>Let me just put it out there right away.<p>

I don't know.

I don't know how I got out of the headquarters.  
>I don't know if someone picked me up.<br>I don't know if Rachel Morgan came back.  
>And, if not, I had no idea where on earth I got the strength to make it out,<br>and, make it out before the headquarters would have been blown to pieces.

And, if something miraculous did happen,  
>I certainly have no idea why I don't remember any of it.<p>

I don't know how I got here.  
>Quite frankly I don't know how I'm even alive.<p>

I don't have all the answers,  
>believe it or not.<p>

All I can tell you is,  
>I woke up.<p>

That's all I can really record reliably,  
>Waking up and sitting up immediately,<br>as if all of it had been an awful nightmare and  
>I was more than eager to end it as fast as possible.<p>

And, trust me. I was.

But, the pain searing up my the left side of my body  
>sending me right back down to the bed I now was on,<br>told me otherwise.

That was no nightmare.  
>And it's nowhere near over.<p>

"Where am I?"

I had asked that frantically,  
>expecting the worst to tell you the truth.<p>

I was expecting someone to put me right back to sleep,  
>or carry me off to a torturing chamber.<p>

I was expecting someone there to scold me,  
>for betraying The Circle, betraying my family.<br>All for some girl who looked at me differently.

I expected the room to be on fire.  
>I expected to be dead.<p>

I expected practically everything  
>except Joe Solomon,<br>looking up from his chair in the corner of the room, studying my face.

"You're home," he said.


	8. Entry 8

**A/N: Nope. I'm not dead. But, I am sorry. SO sorry, in fact, that you're getting a new chapter tomorrow. **  
><strong>I finally got the time to sit down and figure everything out. So, I know exactly what to write. <strong>  
><strong>But, for now. Be gentle. This one's short. But, VERY necessary. So pay attention! :)<strong>  
><strong>I hope you enjoy and don't hesitate to tell me what you think! <strong>

"Write it down. Write everything down."

Those words are the only reason you're reading this.  
>Those words and the following:<p>

"Write it for her. For when she wakes up."

That hope alone is pretty much nonexistent.  
>Everyone know that.<p>

She's as good as dead.

Better to face that now than later.  
>But, I assume, the source of the above mentioned words knew that, dead or not,<br>_she _was motivation.

So, I suppose this is where some sort of long journey starts, the bulk of the story,  
>the body of the report. I mean nothing about what happens next will be entirely interesting.<br>There aren't any more bombs. Or blood. Or fire. Not so far.  
>Thank God.<p>

But, I assume this is all just the beginning of one big long wait.  
>It's like we're all gonna be stuck in limbo for awhile.<br>Days, weeks, months even.

So don't blame me if you get bored. No one said this was going to be a page turner.  
>Like I've said twice before, I'm not partial to the idea of putting this all on paper.<p>

But, it's necessary.

And, if that's not enough for you.  
>If you don't full believe that I decided to relive all of these events for the sake of record keeping,<br>or even your personal tendency to pick the worst tragedy possible out of the non-fiction section.  
>If you really want an honest answer.<p>

I'm following orders.  
>Joe Solomon's orders.<p>

"Write it down. Write everything."

He said that not a day after I woke up.

He tossed me this book. Gave me a pen.  
>And in blind faith that we hadn't all failed,<br>that he wasn't going to lose another Morgan,  
>he told me: "Write it for her. For when she wakes up."<p>

Due to either loss of mind,  
>or lack of reason,<p>

It's taken me this long to pick up the pen.

Four days is a quite a bit of time when you're stuck in a bedroom.  
>In the dark. Completely immobile. Or at least, better off immobile.<br>Otherwise pain like burning flesh shoots up the left side of my body.

Believe it or not, surgery doesn't fix everything.  
>Neither do drugs.<p>

No matter how many pain pills they give you.  
>Nothing stops the itch to move.<br>To simply cross the hall.

And, see her.

I'm not trying to be touchy or emotional.  
>I'm just saying. I can't get up. I can't move.<br>I can't see her. I can't heal her.

I can't do anything.  
>I might as well be lying on a steel floor of a burning room,<br>waiting for the fire to take over and end it.

But, they told me I wasn't going to die.  
>The bullet was removed. The stitches were installed.<br>There was no fatal damage. I was just going to have to sit.  
>And, wait.<p>

So, basically, all I have left to do think, leave the past to continue on repeat in my head.  
>Or write.<p>

And, to tell you the truth,  
>I'd really rather die than do either.<p>

But, I can't. I'd be no use to her dead when she wakes up. _If _she wakes up.  
>So, here it all is. From the beginning.<p>

"Home," He had said.


	9. Entry 9

**A/N: As I promised. Here's the ninth entry. **  
><strong>Thank you so much for your sweet reviews.<strong>  
><strong>I hope you're loving the story as much as I love writing it. <strong>  
><strong>Anyway, here it is! Enjoy and tell me what you think<br>**  
><strong>PS: If you're slightly confused by the end of this chapter, <strong>  
><strong>I promise you. That's the way it's supposed to be. <strong>  
><strong>If desperate, PM me with questions. I'll explain what I can.<br>**

Not many people know Joe Solomon.  
>And, I mean truly<em> know<em> him.  
>Not even his closest friends.<br>Not even Matthew Morgan knew everything about him.

And, that's typical in this world.

You can know a person all your life, know them personally, emotionally  
>and still, after years and years, discover secrets,<br>find skeletons in the closet you normally wouldn't expect.

There are just some things you can never be certain of.

And, though I've known Joe Solomon a majority of my life,  
>and though I probably know more about him than most,<br>all I can really tell you about Joe that is for sure is the following fact:

He's a spy.

If this comes as a revelation to you, I suggest you stop reading now.  
>Because, yes, that's a stupid statement. And, if you didn't catch on that he was a spy, a trained operative until now andor wasn't aware of that fact beforehand…  
>Well, let's be frank, you're probably just as stupid as that statement may seem to the people who are <em>supposed<em>to be reading this book.

For the rest, hear me out.

Joe Solomon is a spy.  
>That is something that has always been, and will never change.<br>It's a concrete fact that you could bet your savings on if you wanted to.  
>Not that I would suggest it.<p>

But, here's the punch line.

Spies lie.  
>All of the time.<br>For specific reasons.

Those specific reasons aren't necessarily anything you will ever know, or want to know for that matter.  
>But, I can guarantee you that spies lie.<p>

And, if you're smart, and can connect the dots:  
>Joe Solomon is a spy.<br>Spies lie.  
>Therefore, Joe Solomon lies.<br>On a number of occasions.

So, write that down real quick.  
>Keep that in mind.<p>

Because, I really didn't mean for it to turn into some big fiasco.  
>It just did. On its own.<p>

Because of drowsiness, and dizziness.  
>and pain medication.<p>

And, the word, the_ lie_ administered by Joe Solomon himself.  
>"You're home".<p>

Home.

That word means a lot of different things  
>to a lot of different people.<p>

But, to me, it literally means absolutely nothing.

I mean, usually the word pertains to a certain place.  
>The place you spend most of your time.<br>Or the place you find the people you love.  
>Whether it contains three bedrooms, two and a half baths,<br>or whatever really doesn't matter.

Home is Home.  
>It's wherever, whoever makes you feel like yourself.<br>Makes you feel loved, and wanted  
>and blah<br>blah  
>blah.<p>

The point is.

The closest thing I've ever had to a home was Gallagher.  
>And, let's face it, Gallagher is an <em>all girl's school<em>.  
>So, due to the fact that I'm pretty sure I'm a male.<p>

I didn't exactly _belong_there.

Therefore, when Joe Solomon told me where exactly I was  
>once I miraculously woke up after who knows how long:<p>

I knew he wasn't talking about somewhere I felt  
>loved or wanted or somewhere I felt at least<br>the tiniest fraction of belonging,  
>Or any of that.<p>

He was talking about a _house_.  
>Not a home.<br>A house.

Four walls. Three bedrooms. Two and a half baths.  
>A house that from its appearance, could be mistake for a home.<br>Some sort of home responsible for holding some sort of happy family  
>at one time or another.<p>

And, I guess I could understand.  
>The framed pictures, the warm colored walls.<br>I guess that could all deceive you.

But, this place has no value. It's not a home.  
>It's just a little shack. On the beach. In the middle of nowhere.<p>

So, I ignored the fact that I hadn't been anywhere near this house in ten years.  
>I ignored the fact that I hated this place and everything it stood for.<br>And, I ignored the fact that someone had probably acknowledged the afore mentioned facts,  
>and had taken the courtesy to turn down all of the picture frames of a family that could be perceived as normal and happy by any ignorant visitor.<p>

I ignored all of that.  
>And, I asked the only question that mattered.<p>

Because sometimes in the world of espionage.  
>You have to give up the superfluous inquiries.<br>Need-to-know basis doesn't only exist to protect you  
>or from knowing too much, but from information that will distract you from the prize.<br>The main goal, the primary objective.  
>The only thing that mattered at all.<p>

And, what _didn't _matter was that I was now being  
>held in a room I hadn't seen since I was eight.<br>In a house that existed in what seemed as a lifetime ago.

So all that was left was the following conversation:

"Where's Cammie?"  
>"Zach, you just got out of surgery a couple of days-"<p>

"Where is Cammie?" I insisted.

"You've lost a lot of blood. You need rest."

"Is she here?"

"No."

"You're lying." That was something I was sure of.  
>Because Joe Solomon was a spy. And spies lie.<br>For various reasons.

He blinked. I glanced at the door, and despite the fact it had to be somewhere between 2 or 4 in the morning, Joe Solomon's ability to predict his opponents next move simply from the look in his eyes or the pattern of his breathing was unwavering.

"Stay still, Zach. You're gonna regret it."

I made a move toward the door, throwing off the covers and springing off the bed and toward the open door. Or, that's what I would have done if searing pain didn't take over my entire body sending me back down to the mattress where I started.

"Told you so."

The stitched up wound at my side raged with a burning sting. Still does.  
>The only difference between then and now is that I'm used to it.<p>

I remember shouting because the pain was so great. It was loud. It was gruff.  
>It would have woken up anyone in with a mile of this place.<p>

Even if they were _technically_supposed to be dead.

"What's going on?" an alarmed Abigail Cameron emerged out of the pitch black of the hallway, and with what little light that was shining into the room, I could see her face.  
>Her eyes met mine, and with that she seemed to relax, like at least half of the world was lifted off of her shoulders.<p>

But, _only_half.

"He wants to see Cammie."

The room fell silent. I looked to Joe. Joe looked to Abby. Abby looked to me.

"We all do, squirt." And, I believed her. I could hear it in her voice, her choice of words.  
>I had the feeling she was <em>dying<em>to call someone "squirt."

"Is she okay?" I demanded.  
>No answer.<br>"Is she _alive_?"  
>More silence.<br>"Is_ anyone_going to answer?"

Right about then, I understood what Gallagher Girl had been blabbering on about for so long, why she had been so persistent to know the answer to practically _everything._

It wasn't fun being out of the loop.  
>It wasn't fun being helpless.<p>

"There's no real way to answer those questions, to be honest." Abby admitted leaning onto the doorpost, an empty hallway of pitch black behind her. And, when looking at her I remember noticing that her usual long thick brown hair was cut short. Or rather, singed short into some sort of tangled, frayed mass.

That's when I remembered the fire.  
>And, the silence didn't last long after that…<p>

"How did you get out? The bomb-"  
>"Was one we planted. We knew when it was going to go off." She said, anticipating my words with quick skill, as if she wanted to get the conversation over with. As if she didn't want to talk about it anymore.<p>

"But, the gas main – "  
>"ignited not forty seconds after we made followed the air shafts out of the building," Joe finished, "The place is a pile of ash now."<p>

"We're lucky to be alive." Abby murmured softly, the words disappearing as if they didn't matter at all anymore. And, I agreed. I didn't care how we got here.  
>Or how lucky we were to be breathing, our hearts beating.<p>

That wasn't the point.

"Did _she_ get out?" I shot into the dark.  
>There was a beat, a question in the air.<br>As if whether someone should answer.

And, that's when Solomon spoke.

"No. She didn't."  
>"You're lying."<p>

I replied, no pause, no beat.  
>I refused to be a fool.<p>

Not anymore.

"Am I?"  
>"Yes. You're lying."<p>

It was a dangerous claim to make.  
>Because, as of then, there were no signs.<br>His breathing was steady.  
>His face was stern.<p>

Any sane human being would believe him.  
>But, my sanity had been long gone.<p>

"She's dead, Zach." He said as if it meant nothing. As if he had decided to get over it as soon as possible. As if his heart was suddenly stone cold. As if he never knew the girl I knew, his best friends' daughter.

As if she had never been alive at all.

I wondered how anyone under any circumstance, trained or not, could uphold such a mask.

But, the room remained silent. Abby remained motionless.  
>And, all that was left was what Joe Solomon was currently calling the truth.<p>

"She's dead. But, you're home. You need rest. Now sleep."

But, he was wrong. I wasn't home. I didn't have a home.  
>I only had her. That was about all I had left.<p>

_She_ was about the only thing I had closest to any sort of "home", in any sense of the word.  
>And, if she was dead.<p>

I was screwed.

And, the thing I really didn't understand was that  
>He knew that as well as I did.<p>

And, yet he still rose from his chair, looked me in the eye and told me,  
>"She's dead. You're home."<p>

And, I wasn't sure whether it was my brain that was overwhelmed or what.  
>But, as he turned to the door for a split second, I was distracted.<p>

"You're supposed to be in a wheelchair." I called out unable to place my finger on at least one thing that made sense that night – I assumed it was just some sort of drug I was under, or the influence of pain that made understanding anything hopeless.

But, that didn't mean I was going to give up.

"_You're_supposed to be dead." He said over his shoulder.

"But-"  
>"Adrenaline can do a lot for you. Save your life, help your friends." He stated crossing his arms as if he were prepping for more questions he wasn't going to answer any more clearly than the last.<p>

"You were a mile away."  
>"Not for long. I had a hunch you would need more backup."<p>

"I think we had it under control."Abby defended doing her best to lighten the situation.  
>"Did you?"<p>

There was a small smirk and an attempt at a laugh between Abby and Joe, but it faltered. The air was too heavy. And, in the silence, I finally soaked in what piece of truth Solomon had given me in the past minute.

_You're supposed to be dead _

"So, how did I get out?" I asked remembering Rachel Morgan. Her broken arm. And, finally the pause after she left when I was almost certain she looked back.  
>A million different possibilities would have gone through my mind.<p>

But there are only a couple that could have occurred to get me out of that hell hole.  
>And, most of them were at the dispense of Cammie.<p>

Trust me, I want to know what happened more than anyone.  
>And, if I did know. I would tell you.<br>But, I don't.

And, neither did they apparently.  
>Because, Joe shifted on his feet, locked with my eyes and said,<p>

"That's what we'd like to know."

But, the conversation didn't go on from there.  
>His words were cut short.<br>By something that made me silently beg that we were still talking.  
>About things I didn't know or couldn't know or anything other than having to sit there and listen to a familiar scream.<p>

A screeching pierce that even when it breaks continues to burn your ears raw, and paralyzes you for a good three minutes.

But, I didn't have time to be paralyzed.  
>Not this time.<p>

"Gallagher Girl." I remember whispering under my breath.

It was then that I lost it.  
>Something in my brain unlatched.<br>And, I remember thinking nothing was going to keep me from that door.

There was a struggle after that. I lunged out of the bed.  
>There was an overwhelming rush of pain, a dizziness that took over my vision, a soaring feeling that enveloped my head but I managed to get my feet on the floor.<br>But, as soon as I felt the carpet, Joe had leapt around to my position, grabbed my shoulders and held me down to the mattress. Abby had turned around and closed the door, guarding it with her life.

And, that's when I started yelling.  
>Actually, "screaming bloody murder" is probably the more appropriate term.<p>

"That's her." I repeated over and over and over, fighting against the grip on my shoulders and ignoring the sting, the burning that began to spread from the left side to the right, "She's here."

_She's alive. _I thought.

"He's hearing things," Abby said to the room in an awkward tone. A tone that told me she was only saying that to herself, as if she was trying to believe it.

"He's hearing things," she repeated again.  
>"Abby-"<br>I grabbed Solomon's hand as he spoke, countered his weight, rolled onto my back and twisting the arm with me. He yelled out in pain.

But, it wasn't as loud as the screaming.  
>It wasn't as terrible as the noise.<br>So, I kept fighting even when Abby replaced the grip on my shoulders with the contorting of my left arm and its pining down in the middle of my back.

"Let me go. Let me-"  
>"She's dead, Zach." Solomon said as if I was slow. As if I couldn't keep up and would never understand. He twisted my right arm and placed it with my left, the weight on my back keeping me in place, but certainly not still.<p>

"She's gone. You need to stop fighting."

"You're lying. She's not-" But my voice faltered and gave out. The searing eating of flesh engulfed the entirety of my body, and I officially was drained of energy.

But, still, I squirmed underneath the two forces bolted into my spine,  
>feeling just as helpless, as worthless as I did the night the Circle went into flames.<p>

"You're home, Zach." Solomon repeated, " You're safe. She's dead. It's all over."  
>"No." My voice squelched.<p>

"Give up." He demanded only generating more strength in me to fight.

So, I began kicking, arching the small of my back in hopes of reaching skin, cracking a jaw.  
>Anything to get out that door.<br>But, I didn't work fast enough, hard enough.  
>And, as I struggled, all I could think was:<p>

Once again. We failed.  
>I failed.<br>I failed _her_.

"Abby, knock him out."  
>"What?"<br>"Do it."  
>"Joe-"<br>"Do it. Now."

There was a blow to the back of my head.  
>Then the world went black.<p> 


	10. Entry 10

**Hey there! **  
><strong>If you didn't notice, I fell off the earth for awhile. <strong>  
><strong>But, good news! By tying together all of my to-do lists and homework from the past month or so, I constructed a rope, made my way back home, and wrote you this.<strong>  
><strong>The next chapter isn't too far away. <strong>  
><strong>Thank goodness for Spring Break! <strong>  
><strong>And, thank goodness for Tuesday! Out of Sight Out of Time - can't freaking wait! <strong>

**But, for now. **  
><strong>Here's Entry 10.<strong>

In the report she left before she ran, Cam made a lot of lists.  
>About almost everything.<br>I guess that's how she dealt with things.

It's a little bit psycho if you ask me.

But, at this point in time.  
>I guess the only way to explain what happened next is through a list.<p>

Because, a list puts things in order.

It puts things in perspective.  
>Even if no one around here is sane enough to have any.<p>

And although I may not ever live this down.  
>This one's for you, Gallagher Girl.<p>

Pros and Cons of Being Knocked Out

A list by Zach Goode

PRO: If you're knocked out pretty good the stabbing pain in your side goes away. At least for a little while.

CON: You'll eventually wake up. And, when you wake up, not only does that stabbing pain come back, but, congratulations, you also have a brand new head ache.

PRO: Eventually waking up, pain or no pain, means _waking up_.  
>Meaning, after all of this chaos, you're actually alive.<p>

CON: Waking up alive doesn't always mean_ she's _ever going to get to do the same.

PRO: Considering the pounding in your head, the sensation of burning flesh at your side, and the issue of getting your eyes to open, you may be able to forget about that fact that she'll never wake up. Even if it is only for thirty seconds tops.

CON: I don't care who you think you are. There's absolutely no way to control where much less _when_ you're going to wake up.

PRO: The odds of waking up during the middle of some confidential conversation that relies on the fact that you are still knocked out and cannot see and/or hear – those odds are in your favor. Which always makes things more interesting.

CON: Confidential conversations in this business are kept confidential for a reason. Reasons you really _aren't meant_ ever know.

PRO: Just because you _aren't meant _to know. Doesn't mean anyone's going to stop you from eavesdroppng. Not when they don't know you're listening.

CON: Although we may do it for a living. Eavesdropping is frowned upon in good society for a reason. Because sometimes you're better off _not knowing_.

Sometimes, though you may have the _right to know_,  
>you're better off never hearing anything at all.<br>Because, I'll be the first to admit that things got out of control.

PRO: Gallagher Girl wasn't there to see it. Any of it.

"You should be in bed."

Abby's voice was the first one I heard.  
>It seemed distant, and faded.<br>And, I couldn't decide at that point if that was because I was just now waking up, and the world was still hazy, or that Abby Cameron hadn't fully survived the Circle.

Honestly, I can't decide if any of us did.

My head throbbed.  
>My eyes wouldn't open.<br>But, I could tell I was in the same place.  
>The coarse sheets underneath my fingers were the same.<br>The stale smell of the room was still there.  
>And, considering the voices were coming from the direction the door of the room would be<br>told me that Joe and Abby had turned me over and left me where I was.

And, they had left the door cracked.

"Really, Joe, you're only going to hurt yourself."

There was a creek of a floorboard.  
>Then a beat of silence.<p>

"I feel fine." Joe spoke.

"You're not even allowed to be out of that wheel chair,"  
>Abby's voice skimmed past my door,<br>"Much less walking around in the middle of the night not sleeping."

"Why are you up?" He said, changing the subject.

"I want to see her."  
>"I wouldn't go in there."<br>"Have _you_ seen her?"  
>"No."<br>"Joe, don't lie to m-"  
>"I'm not."<p>

There was another beat.  
>And, I remember right then my brain started working.<br>Started listening, started analyzing.

"Do you know _anything_?" She said.

"I know the doctor came back a couple hours ago."  
>"And…"<p>

"He casted up Rachel's arm, gave me some pain pills…"  
>"And…"<p>

There was a beat. I heard Joe struggle to laugh.  
>But, it turned out sounding dark, brutal.<p>

"You're just like her, you know. She would never accept the fact that there's no more information to give." His voice rose, "I don't have all of the answers, Abby"

Right then was when I swear I could almost feel eyes on my door.  
>And, Joe's voice immediately softened.<p>

"Zach's out cold. He won't hear."

"So, then tell me what you know." Abby fought.

There was a moment of decision.  
>And, with it, my eyes shot open.<br>Once I realized they weren't talking about Rachel.  
>Once I realized they were never talking about Rachel.<p>

"What. Do. You, Know." She demanded.

Her tone must have been nearly lethal.  
>Those words must have had a lot of power.<br>Because, Joe Solomon was suddenly very quick to give an answer.  
>All of the sudden, Joe Solomon was inclined to tell the truth.<p>

"All I know is that she's not dead." He said, "Yet."

And, that's when the screaming started again.


	11. Entry 11

_**How long has it been? Two weeks? Three weeks?** Hey. That's not that bad. _  
><em>Alright, here's one of the last psycho-crazy-on-crack-chapters. <em>  
><em>Or so we hope. <em>  
><em>Things should calm down from here on out.<br>And, hopefully make a little more sense._

_Thank you so much to all of your super sweet reviews! _  
><em>If you haven't yet, go check out my new One-Shot, <strong>Truce! <strong>_

_Alright. Here's Entry 11. Tell me what you think! _  
><em>Enjoy :) <em>  
>- Sweetly<p>

* * *

><p>Guilt.<br>Regret.  
>Hate.<br>_Self-hate_ is a powerful thing.  
>So, powerful that it can turn you into exactly<br>the kind of person you don't want to be.

Does that make any sense?

It's like you hate yourself for being one way.  
>You hate yourself for doing this, or doing that.<p>

You hate yourself for not being able to fix it.  
>You hate yourself for losing a fight you can't win.<p>

You hate it all so much.  
>That the anger begins to build.<p>

And, that anger morphs you into  
>the kind of person who would <em>do all of these things<em>,  
><em>be all of these things<em>, you hate yourself for  
>without a blink of an eye.<p>

It turns you into a monster.

A desperate, selfish, out of control,  
>power-hungry monster.<p>

Because any power, any strength that you can muster is enough.  
>Enough to keep you going.<br>Give the illusion that things can get better.

And, you're not the person you're turning into.

But, in the back of your mind,  
>You know.<p>

You're destroying yourself.  
>Because, with all this hate,<br>you have the ability, the drive, to do anything you want to.  
>You have the ability to destroy anything you want to.<br>to get what you want back.  
>to win the war with yourself.<p>

But, in the end,  
>it's all just counterproductive.<p>

In the end, you just become exactly what you fought for so long not to be.

I don't know if that makes sense.  
>I'm not sure if you'll get the point.<p>

I'm not sure why I'm even telling this to you.  
>It's not like self-hate is any kind of excuse for what happened that night.<p>

So, maybe I should just tell you what happened.

For record-keeping reasons.

I'm sorry, Gallagher Girl.

There were a couple of different screams piercing through the house  
>when I ran through my door, suddenly realizing that I was on my feet.<p>

Abigail Cameron screamed my name.  
>She screamed to stop me, reaching for me.<br>begging me to slow down my sprint across the hall.  
>She begged me to calm down.<br>But, I was too, strong, too fast for her.

Joe Solomon screamed orders.  
>To Abby. To me. To Rachel behind the other door.<br>As if to send out some sort of warning.  
>As if I was suddenly some merciless killer.<br>Something whoever was on the other side of that hall,  
>something they should be afraid of.<p>

Cammie Morgan just screamed.  
>Her voice was real.<br>She was there.

And, I remember muttering over and over and over the words Joe had just spoken.  
>"She's not dead. Yet."<p>

I couldn't stop.  
>I couldn't breathe.<br>I couldn't even think.

All, I really could do was throw my body against the locked door,  
>watch it give way, and stare at the body in the bed, and the two other people<br>standing there, looking at Cammie Morgan as if they were completely lost  
>as if they had no idea what to do.<p>

She struggled within the sheets, twisting and turning,  
>screaming her lungs out, bloody murder.<p>

And, I guess I froze a little because I remember stopping in the door way,  
>and not seeing Cammie in a bed, but a chair.<br>The sheets not cloth, but grabs and wires and electricity.

And, I guess that made me stop and stare,  
>and pray to God that she would just stop screaming.<p>

I wanted to turn a knob.  
>I wanted to flick a switch.<br>Turn it all off.

I wanted someone to take control.  
>Because, I obviously had none.<br>No guts to move even a step forward,  
>to stop it when I could.<br>Just like before. Underground.  
>In a pit of steel.<p>

I wanted someone to say something.  
>But, the only words in the room amongst the screaming were ones<br>frail, and weak, and completely irreverent.

"He's not supposed to be walking…" a slender little man spoke from the corner by the boarded window, his words less _suggestion _and more _impossibility_.

"He's not very good at doing what he's told." Joe said to the man.

I assumed they were talking about me.  
>And, I assumed from then on, since they took absolutely no notice to the girl I charged for,<br>I assumed they knew absolutely nothing,  
>and would do absolutely nothing.<p>

And, so, from that point on,  
>I took matters into my own hands.<p>

"Gallagher Girl," I remember muttering,  
>pushing past figures in my way toward the bedside.<p>

"Zach. Go back to bed." Joe said. I took one look at Cammie.  
>Another at the cowering faces hiding in the shadows of the room.<p>

"_What?_ Are you guys just going to wait this out?" I snapped,  
>"You're just going to let her suffer?"<p>

_She's not dead. Yet._ I thought.  
>The words played on repeat in my mind.<p>

And, I remember looking at Abby.  
>Searching for an answer.<br>Because, only a few hours ago, Cammie was supposedly dead.  
>Or that's what they had said.<p>

But, _she's not dead. Yet. _  
>We could still save her.<p>

But, everyone just stood there.  
>As if Cammie Morgan wasn't screaming bloody murder.<br>And, if she was, there was nothing we could do about it.

Abby had looked down.  
>The doctor had looked to Joe.<br>And, that's when he said,  
>"Zach, go back t—"<p>

But, I stopped him mid sentence.  
>With force. And with a voice I remember not recognizing as my own.<p>

"Not before you tell me what's going on.  
>Not before all of you tell me everything."<p>

The room was filled with agents considered to be living legends.  
>Or, in Joe's case, an allegedly dead legend.<br>Main point. They're good at what they do.

So, I wasn't surprised when no one flinched.  
>No one spoke. No one did anything to give anything away.<p>

So, I just problem solved.  
>I turned to the weakest link, the easy target,<br>the crumpled figure in the corner,  
>trembling for his life at the sight of me.<p>

"What's wrong with her?"  
>"I-I'm not allowed to release any -"<p>

"Tell me." My voice shot above the screaming, "Now."

The little man shook, threw a glance to Joe then stuttered.  
>"Sh- She's in a semi-comatose state."<p>

"What does that mean?"

"Well…Sh-She can respond to her senses, but considering her condition,  
>soon enough she'll slip into a full comatose state a-"<p>

"Respond to her senses. What senses?"

"Well, semi-comatose patients normally can respond to voices, sounds, smells, or dreams without being aware of…"

I guess it was the look on my face that made him stop.  
>Because, I remember him scooting backward a little too quickly in his chair.<br>He was frightened.

I don't blame him honestly.  
>He was really sort of a wuss for one.<p>

And, two, I just stared at him.  
>Like before, I didn't move.<br>I couldn't move.

All I could think, all I could say was, "Dreams." _  
><em>Dreams caused by trauma. Electrical trauma.  
>That played games with the brain. Deadly games.<br>Games I had first-hand experience with.

With that thought, I remembering turning toward the bed,  
>grabbing Cammie's shoulders and doing my best to hold her still.<p>

"She's having a nightmare?"

Abby stepped out from the corner by the door,  
>heading to the other side of the bed, taking a hold on Cam's left.<p>

"Well, Agent Cameron, according to my research, I'm not sure if we c-"

"No." I cut the man off, "Not exactly."

But, I didn't go into detail.

I didn't mention the fact that, to Cammie,  
>this nightmare wasn't a nightmare at all.<br>It was real. It was a reenactment of that chair. That night.  
>And, if it was real enough. Her body would go into shock.<p>

And, with enough of these episodes,  
>her body could and would believe it was dead.<p>

But, I didn't mention that.  
>I didn't even want to think about that.<p>

So, with Abby's vice on her back, I yanked the sheets off the bed,  
>and pulled Cam's ear to my mouth making sure there was no mistake,<br>making sure she would hear me.

"Gallagher Girl, It's me. It's Zach." I said, "It's okay. They're gone. You're safe."

I didn't realize I was holding my breath  
>until Cam's screaming decreased to a whimper,<br>and finally to silence as I lowered her back to her pillow.

"I never thought to do that," the slender man muttered, astonished.

"Of course you didn't."

"Zach…" Abby started, "How did you know—"  
>"Experience." I said, leaving it there.<br>Not caring to explain.  
>Not caring about anything but the girl in my hands.<p>

She was there.  
>She was breathing. She had a pulse.<br>_She was alive._

And, I think it was there when it all went downhill.

I'm sorry, Gallagher Girl.

"Alright. All of you are going to tell me everything."  
>I remember getting off the bed in one swift motion,<br>"What's going on?"

No one spoke.  
>No one had the strength, or rather the nerve to speak.<br>No one except the idiot in the corner.

"Well, she has three broken ribs, a slight concussion, the gash on her head has lost her a lot of blood, not to mention…" But, he stopped. I switched my stare from Cam to him.  
>He flinched in the terror I had seen before.<p>

"What? Not to mention what?"  
>He hesitated, and looked to Joe.<p>

"Go ahead and tell him, Dr. Wells. There's no turning back now."

"She-…Sir, her insides are fried. I'm not sure how much we can do for her."

"See, Zach. She's Dead." Joe said immediately,  
>and with that, something in me snapped.<p>

"You. You lied." I pointed to him, and got closer.

"Spies lie, Zach."

"Not about this." I remember my voice quaking right then as if in weakness,  
>and I remember swearing that it was the last bit of weakness I would ever show them<br>if I could help it.

"It was for your own good."  
>"My own good." I scoffed, "How?"<p>

He didn't answer. He just raised his voice and said again,  
>"She's dead, Zach."<p>

"She's right there-" I motioned toward the bed right in front of his face.

"It will drive you insane for the rest of your life."  
>"She's<em> not<em> _dead_!"

"Yet."

There was terror, regret, guilt in his eyes. But, not for me.  
>Not for lying about the single most important factor of this mission.<p>

And I could tell. Because his voice when he spoke again was even. Steady.

"Trust me, Zach. You need to consider her gone. You need to stop fighting. You need to give up. Otherwise, you will never heal."

"I don't care about _healing_!"

"But, you care about her. And, you will work your whole life to try to make things right again. You will try to make it up to her, but-"

And, I remember right then suddenly hearing Joe Solomon's words.  
>As if I hadn't been listening before.<p>

"Wait. What are you saying…"

"I'm saying you will never forgive yourself for what you did if – "

"No." I shouted and I remember my voice reaching such a volume that I was almost certain someone would hear us from hundreds of miles away.

The room silenced.  
>And once again, I was an enemy.<p>

"Let's get one thing straight," I said, "I wasn't the one who took her _here_."

"It was the only place close enough - "

"You could have driven farther. You could have searched longer."

"She was dying, Zach," He said but I kept going, ignoring his words as I inched closer to him.

"But, you gave up, didn't you?"

No answer.

"You all gave up," a hideous laugh came out of my mouth as I scanned the room. Their faces were terrified, stricken with fear as if I could take them all down in a single swing.

And, I could.  
>I felt as if I had all the power in the world.<br>I felt like a monster.

But, rather than ignoring it.  
>I embraced it.<br>To get what I wanted.

And, never before have I ever felt so much like my mom.

I'm_ so _sorry, Gallagher Girl.

"You could have gotten her help. You could have found a hospital.  
>With people who know what they're doing."<p>

"Dr. Wells is the best on-sight doctor the Agency's got."  
>Joe replied strongly, sternly. But, I didn't stop.<p>

"But, you didn't, did you? Because you gave up."

Joe just stared at me. And, I realized that I had grown, taller, stronger.  
>We were the same height. The same stature.<br>I wasn't just some kid anymore.

I could take him down.

And, I guess that courage,  
>that feeling of might and power<br>gave me enough guts to say what I did  
>right to Joe Solomon's face.<p>

"You killed her."

There was a pause.  
>And, in that moment, Joe's eyes sunk.<br>As if he believed for a second that it was true.  
>He was responsible for the death of another Morgan.<p>

But, remember what I said about regret and guilt and self-hate.  
>It turns you into a monster,<br>the kind of person you don't want to be.

And, in that moment when you are desperate  
>for relief, for resolution,<br>for anything to rip the pressure of guilt off your shoulders,

You can turn into a whole other kind of human being.  
>A merciless, brutal, ruthless human being.<p>

One who you might find working for the Circle.

"No. "he said,  
>"<em>You <em>killed her."

And, I guess it was because of the fact that he was right,  
>that technically I had killed her.<br>I had hooked her up, and sent electric shocks through her already broken body.

I guess it was the fact that Joe Solomon had just destroyed  
>any hope I had in believing otherwise.<p>

I guess that's why I went for his neck.  
>I pushed him, pinning him up against the wall,<br>positioned my hands around his throat and  
>went for his air supply…<p>

I've been friends with Joe Solomon for…  
>who knows how long.<p>

And, right then,  
>all I wanted to do was kill him.<br>murder him, as if that would help.  
>as if that could relieve me of any guilt,<br>as if that would make Cammie better.

I'm not proud of it.  
>I'm not proud of the look in his eyes when I went for him.<br>I'm not proud of all of the screams in the room  
>as someone totally new took over my body.<p>

I'm not proud that I had put him in such a position  
>that I knew he would have no ability to fight back.<p>

I had won.  
>And, I'm not proud of that.<p>

And, I guess because of that realization,  
>the shock of the power, my grip lightened.<br>And, Joe Solomon started to fight.  
>He grabbed my arms and twisted them.<p>

I remember countering that move, spinning on him,  
>and aiming to punch.<p>

"Stop it!" Abby appeared between us gripping my shirt  
>and pressing her other hand against Joe with all her strength,<br>"Stop it, both of you!"

"You take it back!" my voice shot through the house, so loud, so untrained.  
>I remember finding that weakness that caused the cry, and squashed it.<p>

"Take back what, Zach? The truth?"

And, that's when I shoved Abby out of the way,  
>one of the CIA's finest flew across the room like a rag doll.<p>

I had so much strength.  
>So much power. I didn't even know what to do with it.<br>I didn't know what to do but let it loose.

So I did.  
>Or I would have.<br>If a hand didn't grab my shoulder.

And, suddenly, right then – I don't know why -  
>but, the world just stopped.<p>

"Zach." a gentle yet strong grip pressed down on me,  
>And, for a second. I thought it was Cammie.<p>

The voice sounded the same.  
>The hand felt so similar.<p>

But, when I turned around  
>I didn't find Cammie.<p>

I found Rachel Morgan.

I found thick streaks of wet tears coating her face.  
>I found desperation in her eyes that made my face drop.<p>

I found a woman who saw the boy buried inside the monster.  
>As cheesy and stupid as it sounds.<br>I guess that's what I needed.

"Zach," She said again, turning me away from Joe,  
>away from Abby,<br>away from the rest of the world.

And, it was then I suddenly realized that I was out of breath.  
>I had overexerted any strength I had left.<p>

The room spun faster.  
>My head throbbed harder.<br>And, Rachel Morgan's words seemed to run together.

"I know you're hurt. And, tired." She said, her voice broken with tears.  
>"But, I need you to think about Cam."<p>

I don't remember why I said anything,  
>but words came out of my mouth,<br>strained, strangled.

"I didn't kill her."

Rachel Morgan shook her head.  
>As if she knew.<br>And, I guess she did.  
>Because she put her good hand on my face, held me still,<br>and somehow I knew that she understood, she believed me.

"She wouldn't want to see you like this…" She said,  
>her voice almost inaudible.<p>

But, before I could respond.  
>My lungs gave out.<br>The pain in my side had overtaken my body.  
>And, my muscles couldn't stand it anymore.<p>

I thought of fire.  
>I thought of burning steel.<br>I thought of Cammie Morgan.  
>And, like she did the night The Circle fell,<p>

I collapsed.


	12. Entry 12

**Hey Guys.** L_ong time, no see. I'm sorry, again, for the wait. As a theatre buff, the world of UIL One Act Play has been my life for the past few months. Though it may not sound like it, where I live, this contest is hard core. We went into competition and made it far enough to qualify for the highest level, State, but then, though we deserved to qaulify, got named Alternate to State. Long story short, the past few days have been kind of depressing. Lucky for FanFiction, the only way I've been able to escape the dissapoinment is writing. :) And, this entry has given me quite a hard time. But, I'm glad it's finally done. It adds a little happy back into my life. :) _

_And, I hope you very much enjoy it. _  
><em>Thanks again for all your sweet words! <em>  
><em>Read and <strong>tell me what you think! <strong>_

**_- Sweetly_**

PS:

_I didn't plan it like this, given, these are Zach's words.  
><em>_But, This is a little nod to Abby Cameron, my favorite character in the series. _

* * *

><p>Happiness is fleeting.<p>

That's not something we usually like to say, or mention.  
>Much less think about.<p>

But, really. The happy moments in life  
>don't last very long before we find<br>bad or sad or tragic moments to cloud them over.

Cool morning light only lasts so long  
>before the sun gets too high,<br>the air gets too hot.  
>Or a storm blows in, covering it completely.<p>

And, any and all happiness  
>that we once had is gone.<p>

Because the world is essentially dark,  
>and cloudy, and very few things worthy<br>to smile about ever break through all the dark.

But, when they do break through,  
>said happiness is worth the wait.<p>

Whether there is really a reason to be happy or not.

Take it or leave it,  
>when I woke up<em> again<em>,

I don't think I remember much "happiness",  
>or whatever it was, greater than right then.<p>

Not because everything was perfect.  
>Not because Cammie was in any better condition.<p>

But, because, for whatever reason,  
>there was a little bit less of gloom and doom.<p>

I personally blamed the extra boost  
>on the sunlight. Because, I couldn't remember<br>the last time I had seen the sun.

But, if it wasn't the extra dose vitamin D,  
>I honestly had no clue what was going on.<p>

I honestly had no earthly idea how  
>Abby's voice could be so bright and<br>chipper and _irritating_.

Considering the circumstances.

"You've got a fever, Squirt"

It was her voice that made my eyes open  
>for the third of the three,<br>Count them.  
><em>Three times<em>  
>I'd been knocked out on this mission.<p>

That's ridiculous, in my opinion.  
>And, not exactly <em>pleasant <em>either.

But, I would wake up like that a hundred more times,  
>pounding head ache, searing pain and all,<br>if it meant Cam could wake up just once.

And, when my vision finally cleared up,  
>and Abby took the back of her hand off my forehead,<br>I could tell by the look in her eyes, she'd do the same.

She'd do anything.

But, _anything _wasn't possible.  
><em>nothing <em>was possible at that moment in time

So, for now.  
>She'd just treat me like I was her niece.<br>Starting by replacing my personally more preferred name  
>with "Squirt."<p>

"You've got to stop this overexertion thing."  
>She said shaking her head,<br>"You've got to stay in bed. And, you've got to keep _that _covered."

Abby pointed to the fresh batch of bandages wrapped around my stomach  
>and the red stain on my left side.<p>

"Those things attract infections like metal to a magnet."  
>She laughed a little. "Trust me, I know."<p>

But, I wasn't really listening.  
>All I could really focus on was the fact that:<p>

She_ laughed._

Abigail Cameron was known for being a loose cannon.  
>She was known for being good at not taking things seriously.<br>Or, at least making it look like she didn't take things seriously.

But, in my opinion. By the way she looked at me that morning,  
>I could tell she did take things seriously.<br>More than anyone.

She was just smart enough to discover the skill  
>to laugh through the pain. As if joking about it somehow made it better.<p>

And, personally, I was floored.

So, I didn't say a word.  
>I couldn't say a word as Abby turned toward the curtains<br>at the other side of the room.

There was light shooting through the cracks  
>of what was left of the blinds.<br>And, when my eyes adjusted to the brightness,  
>I noticed I wasn't in the bedroom anymore.<p>

I was on a mattress. In the hall.  
>Right outside Cam's door.<p>

"And, considering the fever," Abby had continued,  
>" It looks like you've got some bit of a infection already."<p>

But, once again, I wasn't listening.  
>Nor, did I care.<p>

I wasn't the one in the coma.  
>And, right then, that was all I could think about.<br>That and the fact that the door was closed.

And, the minute I got up to open it,  
>you guessed it, I fell right back down.<p>

The thump of the mattress made  
>Abby turn around, cross her arms and look at me,<p>

"It's funny. You think you would have learned by now."

I remember groaning in pain  
>and cursing under my breath.<p>

I remember mumbling something about not being to  
>put up with this whole not-moving thing much longer.<br>But, there was nothing I could do about it.

So, I just gritted my teeth, held the bandage at my side  
>and did what I could.<p>

Ask questions.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything to ask.

I couldn't ask where I was.  
>I already knew.<p>

I couldn't ask what had happened.  
>I sort of <em>made <em>it happen.

And, I couldn't ask how Cammie was,  
>because I was honestly too afraid of the answer.<p>

So, I just stuck with  
>the most basic thing I could think of.<p>

"How long was I out?"

Abby shrugged, "Several hours."  
>And with her words, she turned back to the curtains<br>and threw them open.

Light burst into the room,  
>over every nook and cranny.<p>

And, by the way Abby closed her eyes,  
>took a deep breath and soaked in the sun,<br>I could tell she had been more than ready for morning.

"Finally." She muttered to the sunshine then smiled.

_She smiled._  
><em>Someone <em>smiled.

And, believe it or not,  
>I hadn't seen someone genuinely smile like that<br>since before Cammie left.

I looked up at Cam's door beside me  
>as much as I could. I swear, I didn't move.<br>Barely at all.

But, Abby somehow read my mind.  
>Maybe because we were on the same wave length,<br>or just in the same boat.

Either way, she said, "She's doing better."

But, she was lying. I knew,  
>because when Abby turned back to me,<br>the look in her eyes was the same I had seen in Rachel's the night before.

That sort of pain isn't something you can hide very well.  
>Even the best of spies would have trouble.<p>

But, with a cinch of a grin,  
>Abby made me believe that somehow,<br>it could be true.

Somehow, she'd be okay.

"She's had three episodes since you passed out," She continued,  
>"We got her to settle down, but not nearly as fast as you did."<p>

And, with that said, Abby kind of laughed.

"Seems my niece has a bit of a thing for you," She winked,  
>and then dropped down onto the living room couch not far from my mattress.<p>

Abby popped her head over the back, and swung her  
>arms up onto the lining to support her chin,<br>then she looked at me and smiled.

_Again._

"Which is why we were very glad to hear that you were going to survive,"  
>She shrugged. "That and we like you."<p>

It took me until then to realize I hadn't said much of anything.  
>The light from the window was too blinding,<br>and Abby's smile was too bizarre.

I couldn't decide whether she envisioned  
>she was talking to Cammie. Or if she had amnesia,<br>and had forgotten everything about the last couple days.

Or both.

But, either way, she was happy.  
>And, all I could say was.<p>

"Why?"  
>"Why what, Squirt?"<p>

Why _everything_.

Why was my mattress outside Cam's door?  
>Why didn't she remember anything about the night before and hold me to it?<p>

Why on earth could anybody, especially Abby Cameron,  
>find the ability to be smile about anything that was happening?<p>

Why _everything_.

But, not everything has an answer.  
>And sometimes, not everything<em> needs<em>an answer.

Sometimes, you just have to stop asking questions.  
>For everyone's sake.<p>

Sometimes you've just got to accept the happiness,  
>while it's there, with or without reason.<br>Because, soon enough, it would and could be gone.

But, I didn't know that then.

And, I didn't know what to say either.  
>So I just stared at the wall across the room,<br>gave up the fight, and said.

"I don't know."

And, it was weird, but Abby nodded her head as if she accepted it.  
>As if she understood everything,<br>or understood nothing at all,  
>and she was okay with it.<p>

And, that was a big deal for anyone who was associated with,  
>much less related to, the Morgan family.<p>

But, then again, we all had gotten a little screwed up  
>after the night the circle fell.<p>

"Dr. Wells left you a regiment of antibiotics, and strict orders to stay on that mattress."  
>She said after a moment.<p>

"Of course he did," was all I could get out.

"He'll be back later to check on you."  
>"Joy." I said to the ceiling.<p>

"And, we moved you extra close to her door, so no more sprinting, Squirt."  
>She looked at me again, her eyes wide, and authoritative.<br>A good kind of authoritative,  
>the one that cares about your well being, rather than the power it has over you.<p>

And, I have to say,  
>that look was refreshing.<p>

"Got it?" She asked.  
>I nodded because that was all there was left to do.<p>

And, that's when the room filled with silence,  
>a peaceful silence that I remember almost made me<br>feel like I could fall asleep, voluntarily this time.

_Almost._

Because, despite the silence.  
>Despite my attempt to close my eyes,<br>I heard screaming far off in my brain. I felt my hands on Joe's neck.  
>And, I saw Abigail Cameron fly across the room.<p>

I saw everything, and though I didn't want to remember it,  
>I certainly couldn't live with everything that happened the night before,<br>unless I said something, did something.

"Abby, I didn't mean to –"  
>I started, sitting up as much as I could.<p>

But, she held up her hand immediately,  
>stopping me in my tracks, her eyes on the window.<p>

"We all kind of lost it, didn't we?"

Abby Cameron smiled as much as she could, glanced at me,  
>then looked at her hands. I looked at her in silent agreement,<br>then said:

"I almost _killed _Joe."

That was far from a joke.  
>I meant it. And, I wasn't proud of it.<br>I'm still not.

But, never the less, Abby started laughing.

"Zach, you and Joe are just alike," She said.

"Hell would have to freeze over before he lost a fight."  
>She shook her head in fake-exhaust, "Testosterone."<p>

Abby laughed and joked and smiled and grinned.  
>And, I, by that point, really had lost it.<p>

I didn't understand.

But, somehow even with her loopy smiles,  
>and ridiculous laughing, Abby did.<p>

"Zach, you wouldn't have killed him," She said,  
>and, I was honestly taken aback.<p>

Because, the night before,  
>I was positive I could have.<p>

And, I would have.

But, before I could say anything, she spoke again.

"You're not who you think you are, Zach." She said,  
>"If you were you wouldn't have let Rachel leave without you."<p>

And, for the first time in like ten minutes,  
>her smile fell, and I almost could see her remembering<br>the flames and the smoke and the collapse of the headquarters  
>we had searched for months to find.<p>

"She told me about it last night," Abby spoke again, her cheeriness gone,  
>"That's some brave stuff, Squirt."<p>

"That doesn't matter," I remembered saying that. And, believing it.  
>Regardless of what happened, or what intentions I had.<p>

I was still my mother's son.

But, Abby just smiled softly, and reassured me.  
>"Zach, you practically died for my niece."<p>

"You're not the enemy. You're nothing like them."

I didn't know if I believed it.  
>I wanted to believe it.<br>I wanted Gallagher Girl to believe it.  
>I wanted Gallagher Girl to wake up.<p>

I wanted to say a lot of things to Abby,  
>but the only thing that came out of my mouth was:<p>

"Neither is Joe. " I said, "Joe isn't the enemy either."

"Well..." She smirked jokingly, "The thing about Joe is—"

"What?" Joe's voice said suspiciously, "What's the thing about me?"  
>Abby's eyes went wide, as he closed Cam's door behind him.<p>

I watched them exchange a look  
>then Abby disappeared onto the couch.<p>

Joe glanced at me, tightening the grip on a book in his left hand.

"Ignore her," He said rolling his eyes,  
>"She's crazy."<p>

And, that's when things got really odd.  
>Because right then, I felt myself laugh too.<p>

"_I'm _crazy!" Abby's voice came from the couch.

But, Joe didn't answer.  
>He swung around to the edge of my mattress<br>and sat down with a sigh.

"So," He said after awhile.  
>"I see you're up."<p>

I nodded cause that's all there was left to do.

"Good." He said then brought the book in his left hand up to  
>a steady two-handed grip. "Are you feeling better?"<p>

"You want the truth?"  
>"Sure."<br>"No."

Joe nodded.

"But, it could be worse." I said.  
>"It can always be worse," Joe agreed,<br>staring at the window before he turned to me,  
>and tossed the book in his hands my way.<p>

"Here."

I picked up the journal, recognized it from the one before,  
>the one we had found, the one the Circle had gone through,<br>the one I had started when I was just a little kid.

This one.

"You might want to start writing. We need to start keeping a record."

I didn't see the point of that right then.

All I could see was everything I had to relive.  
>I saw the fact that I had hooked Cammie Morgan up to a chair,<br>turned the knob, and watched her scream.

"I didn't mean to it." I remember saying, the words low, and quiet.

I don't remember deciding to say it.  
>But, I do remember those words meaning more than what they seemed.<p>

I didn't mean to do a lot of things.  
>I didn't mean to hurt <em>her<em>.  
>And, I didn't mean to go after <em>him<em>.

I didn't mean to become _that_.  
>or whoever I was the night before.<p>

But, he seemed to understand both the text and the subtext,  
>and just said, "I know."<p>

"There's still hope." Joe let out a small smile.

I wasn't certain if he meant hope for me,  
>hope for Cam, hope for the all of us in general.<p>

But, either way, I still said, "Not a lot."  
>"But some." He finished with a sigh.<p>

"She'll be okay." He said, "Morgan's don't give up very easily."  
>And for a second, I smiled, and nodded because that's all there was left to do.<p>

That, and relish that hope, that reasonless happiness  
>while we still had it.<p>

And, that's when Abby's head popped up over  
>the back of the couch, her arms supporting her chin.<p>

"Do men ever just say they're sorry?"

Joe and I exchanged a look,  
>He shrugged, stood up and said.<p>

"Sure."  
>"When?"<br>"Now." He said flicking her ear quicker  
>than she could slap his hand out of the way.<p>

"Ouch!" She cried.  
>"Sorry," He said as he ran into the room across the hall<br>and closed the door before she could get to it.

I'll be honest,  
>I wasn't sure what was happening.<br>Or the reason behind it,I wasn't exactly in the condition to understand,  
>but as Abby banged on the door and Joe held it shut,<p>

I couldn't help but realize I was still smiling.  
>A little, at least.<br>For no reason at all.

Trust me,  
>I'm just as suprised as you are.<p>

"Come on out, Joe. Profess your undying love for me."

He opened the door, and peaked through the crack.  
>"I'm sorry, for who?"<p>

She placed her hands on her hips "For me."

"For you? Yeah right." He closed the door again.  
>"Oh please." She turned around, and crossed her arms<br>and grinned at me, "He'll come around."

She collapsed back on the couch and yelled loud enough for Joe to hear,  
>"By the time we get back home. He'll be on one knee."<p>

And, that's when it hit me.

Home.

I guess that was the target now.  
>To go home, and be home.<p>

Because, now more than ever  
>it seemed like actual possibility.<p>

Maybe that's why everyone was so happy.  
>Maybe that's why Abby had the courage to yell through the house,<br>"I want a princess cut, Joe. Three carat."

Maybe that's why Joe had the ability to laugh  
>and respond, "You're not worth three carats."<p>

But, remember what I said.  
>Happiness doesn't last forever.<br>It's fleeting.

It's vulnerable, easily manipulated,  
>easily clouded-over.<p>

The world is essentially dark.

And, I guess I remembered that only when  
>I woke up too early in the middle of the night.<p>

My side stung.  
>My head throbbed.<br>I couldn't move.  
>But, I could hear the conversation in the next room.<p>

"What are you going to do about the boy, Rachel?"  
>"The boy?"<br>"Yes, the Goode boy."

Dr. Well's voice said my name like it was poison.  
>I didn't blame him.<p>

"What about him?"  
>"Rachel, you saw him the other night. He's dangerous."<p>

"Dangerous?"

"And, he's probably _done things_. He's been around the Circle for eighteen years.  
>The Agency is going to eventually get involved and you know very well what's going to happen."<p>

"Enlighten me, Dr. Wells."

"He needs to be taken in, Rachel. He needs to be questioned."  
>"He's no criminal, Patrick,"<br>"You don't know that, Rachel, he-"

"Listen to me. And, listen well, Patrick. No one is going to lay a hand on that _boy_ until my daughter wakes up, understand?"  
>"Rachel, your daughter's condition suggests that – "<p>

"My daughter will wake up, Dr. Wells, and when she does wake up, it will be because of one person and one person only. And, that's _him_."

"You can't just avoid this, Rachel." He said,  
>his voice more confident than I ever remembered it.<p>

And, that might have been because this time,  
>He knew what he was talking about.<p>

"That boy saved my daughter's life, Dr. Wells, and if they want him…"

There was a beat. I could feel a someone standing by my mattress,  
>and it was only then that I had noticed that I had sat up,<br>despite the burning in my side.

"They have to get through me first."

I don't know what made me do it, but right as Rachel said that,  
>I looked up almost already aware that Joe was standing there.<p>

I could see his face through the dark.  
>And, though it was late, I could tell he was thinking the exact same thing I was.<p>

He knew how this all would end up.  
>He had lived through it.<p>

But, we both knew,  
>I might not be so lucky.<p>

"Write it all down." he said picking up the book  
>at the side of my mattress and throwing it to me<br>"Write everything down."

I remember hesitating.  
>So, I guess that's why he gave me a reason.<br>Motivation.

"Write it for her. For when she wakes up."


	13. Entry 13

_**So. This has been a long time coming. **_  
><em>I'm so sorry it's been so super long. Summer is busier than i thought it would be...<em>

_And, this chapter gave me ridiculous amounts of trouble._  
><em>I had one written.<em>  
><em>Hated it. <em>  
><em>Started from scratch. <em>  
><em>Then got distracted with Little Miss Morgan. <em>

_There's just a lot that's gonna happen, and sometimes it takes time for me_  
><em>to put it all in order in my head. And do it right. <em>

_But, I think I got it right this time. And, if not, don't be surprised if I totally change it later._

_Also, this will be one of the short but crucial and possibly confusing chapters that you'll understand further with the next one._  
><em>(which is already halfway written and coming super duper soon) If you're desperate, PM me with questions.<em>

_Otherwise, hang in there._

_So, for what it's worth._  
><em>Here's Entry 13. <em>  
><strong><em>Read, Review, and tell me what you think! <em>**

_Enjoy :) _

**_- Sweetly _**

* * *

><p>Normally, I don't have dreams.<br>But, I mean, _normally_, I don't write in journals either.

But, technically, I guess this isn't a _journal_.  
>And, technically, it wasn't a dream.<p>

It was more of an unfortunate memory.  
>That I would, honestly, do just fine without.<p>

I would have been perfectly fine

But, my lack of fortune has been pretty prominent lately.

So, let's just say.

There was no surprise when  
>our already unfortunate circumstance<br>had become increasingly more unfortunate.

Despite the fact that I was convinced that  
>- for maybe a second – that wasn't possible.<p>

Just for reference.

I haven't picked this book up for three days.  
>And, before you judge me,<br>I have my reasons.

One.  
>Bullet wound recovery tends to make you<br>feel a little under the weather, or otherwise  
><em>unconscious<em>.

Two.  
>I practically lived through Hell. Twice.<p>

Once my job was done, my job was done.  
>And, I took advantage of that.<p>

You wanted a record, Joe.  
>I gave you one.<p>

And, what happens after  
>doesn't necessarily matter to anyone else but us.<p>

But, as they say:  
>Hindsight is twenty-twenty.<p>

Stepping back makes you think.  
>or even <em>remember<em>. And, what I remember was red.

The color.

Who knows.  
>As always it could have just been the pain meds<br>messing with my brain, or the effects  
>of too much heat or smoke or whatever.<p>

None of us are in prime condition.

But, last night I remembered, I _saw_ red.  
>Red flames. Red blood. Red lights.<p>

Red _hair_. Frayed and frizzed.

And, to be frank,  
><em>Red <em>changed everything.

"Her."

I think that's what I said.  
>Or something like it.<p>

It was all sort of a blur.

But, when I woke up, I was sweating,  
>the hole in my side burned even more than usual,<br>and Joe Solomon was there to hear me yell.

He was there to see me sit up,  
>grab my side in pain,<br>and then say again something like

"It was her."

"I was afraid of that," Joe said.

And, honestly I guess I was too.  
>I didn't think it was possible.<p>

But, logically, there was no way that I just magically_ appeared_ outside of  
>the underground headquarters right before it blew to pieces.<p>

And, like I said before,  
>if it was possible,<br>if it did happen,

_It _changed everything.

I had thought of at least a dozen different ways  
>I could have gotten out of that building that night.<p>

Most of them were impossible.

But, I always thought that the chance that  
>I'd grown wings and flew out the ceiling<br>was far greater than the chance that I had escaped  
>by the means of my <em>mom<em>.

But, somehow, after that night,  
>I had a gut feeling.<p>

I remember being lifted.  
>I remember being shoved. A lot.<br>I remember the rush of fresh air.

I remember Red.  
>Red hair I know too well.<p>

But, don't get all sentimental on me.  
>My mother isn't the one to show that she cares<br>about me or my well being.

Whether I burn to death or not  
>is not something I suspect to be on her top list of concerns.<p>

And, to be honest,  
>I couldn't care less.<p>

I've come to terms with the fact that I'm alone  
>as far as my last name goes.<p>

God only knows why she decided to shove me through  
>an air shaft then leave me in a field somewhere.<p>

God only knows if she thought she was doing me a favor.  
>God only knows if she did it out of greed or love or whatever.<p>

None of that really matters.

What matters was that I got out alive.  
>And, if I got out alive.<p>

So did she.

"She's still out there"

That's what mattered.

And, when I said it through my teeth,  
>all I really felt was hatred.<p>

Pure hatred.

Because, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

And, my mom has always  
>had a knack for screwing me over.<p>

"That's what I was afraid of," Joe said,  
>"That's why we're <em>here<em>."


End file.
